Matchmaker
by Wulfeh
Summary: After the Cell Games, Gohan takes it upon himself to help his mother out of her stagnant love life - and what better way to do that than find her a date for Bulma's annual party? Come to think of it, Piccolo's going stag too... Can Earth's greatest hero find them both dates in time? /Eventual Chiccolo (PCc) Mild-mod language, some sexual humor and mild themes. I own nothing./
1. Thrown Together Letters

**Chapter One – Thrown Together Letters ("Uh-Oh!" Junior Doctor)**

"Whew! That math problem was a doozy," Son Gohan set his pencil down in relief and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head as he did so. "Well, I'm all done now." He beamed down at his tidy paper; wait until his mother saw this! She would be so proud of - Gohan frowned. Would Chichi be able register something so trivial as his perfect math homework as a reason to rejoice? He suddenly wasn't so sure. She had been so…off…of late. Ever since Goten… The elation he had been experiencing only moments before began to drain away like used bath water, only to be replaced by a cold, uncomfortable numbness. "What were you thinking, Dad?" he murmured, dark eyes swiveling to stare out the window. Gohan shook his head; whatever Goku had been thinking, and however he had gotten the idea, the boy would ponder forever. Rubbing his temples slowly to clear his mind of thoughts pertaining to his father, the preteen stood, gathering up his studies and exiting the room. He closed the door carefully behind him; he needed to clean up and the last thing he wanted was his mother finding the mess of boxers, sparring outfits, socks, and general clutter. The boy shuddered. "Mom! I finished my homework! Do you want to see it?"

"I'm with the Baby!" she called from down the hall, where Gohan's highly-trained hearing picked up on the faint noises of Goten resisting a new diaper. "Hold still," he heard his mother growl at her infant. Gohan tucked his work under his arm and hurried down the hall to his parent's bedroom. Or at least, what had been his parent's room up until a year ago. Not bothering to knock, the boy strode into the master bedroom-and-nursery. His mother hovered over Goten, attempting to wrestle a diaper onto the three month old. He couldn't help but giggle.

"Do you want any help, Mom?"

"What?" Chichi stood straight, momentarily abandoning her task and taking her attention off of Goten. "Oh, no, dear, that's quite alright, everything's under -"

Taking full advantage of his freedom, Goten gurgled happily and released a stream of pee which arced like a fountain, splattering gracefully on to his already frazzled mother's arm.

Gohan's eyes bugged out of his head as he watched his mother's face, waiting for the explosion. He saw it coming...any second now... Detonating in three, two...

"On second thought," Chichi's voice shook with an odd tone, stuck somewhere between laughter and tears, "can you finish changing him?" Gohan nodded fervently and gently pushed his mother to the bathroom. She had handled that quite nicely.

"I'll leave my work on your bedside table, okay?"

She nodded before turning on the faucet and shutting the door.

Gohan turned to his baby brother who lay naked on the changing table, burbling gleefully at his little trick.

"I sure hope you're empty," Gohan said, nodding to the infant. "I already took my bath today, thanks." He quickly wrapped the baby boy in a new diaper, moving too quickly for the infant to gather any resistance. Gohan hoisted the baby into his arms, cradling him carefully as he made his way over to the stack of infinitesimal shirts, trousers and socks. After picking a promising outfit - a striped polo with soft cotton shorts - Gohan returned with Goten to the changing table. He stuffed the wriggling infant into his clothes and placed him under his arm. "Let's go play outside, huh?" Goten gurgled, staring up at his older brother's face. "I'll take that as a 'yes' then."

Goten couldn't sit up without aid yet, so Gohan sat behind the baby on the lawn. He beamed down at his little brother, the spitting image of his father, even at the tender age of three-months. Same eyes, nose, and silly grin. Despite his own resemblance to Goku, Gohan couldn't help but feel a little jealous. He had his mother's eyes - and her brains, which he couldn't complain about. "I wonder if you're going to be a genius like me, or a goof-ball like Dad? What do you think, Goten?"

The baby said nothing, of course. "Job," Gohan whispered; nothing. "Books," not even a blink. "Food." Goten gurgled and clapped his pudgy little hands. "Well, that settles that!" Gohan chuckled, picking the baby up under the arms and swinging him up in the air as he rolled onto his back. Goten shrieked in delight, making all of the cute happy baby sounds Gohan loved so much. A shadow fell across Gohan's face, blocking out the sun. The boy blinked, and Goten's mouth opened in a loud coo of what was presumably confusion.

Gohan craned his head back, squinting to make out the face silhouetted by the sun. He smiled. It was the ears that gave it away.

"Hey Piccolo."

"Hey Kid."

"Burgaloo!"

Piccolo's deep throated chuckle was a wonderful sound, he thought, sitting up and adjusting his hold on his brother. Piccolo knelt down next to him, rolling back off of his knees and settling himself on his behind.

"Hello to you too, Goten." The warrior rumbled.

"He wants you," Gohan held out the infant to the Namekian. Goten screeched, waving his chubby hands at Piccolo.

"Greeee!"

Piccolo hesitantly took the giggling infant from Gohan's hands. Goten promptly snatched at Piccolo's oversized ears, crying when the Namekian pulled his face away from the grabbing fingers. Piccolo turned a glare on Gohan, but the boy recognized it as one of Piccolo's _"Look what I do for you"_ glares, rather than an actual threat.

"What are you doing here, Piccolo?" he asked, shifting closer to his friend and mentor. "I don't think you've come around since Mom made you change Goten's diaper."

The Namek shrugged, materializing a chew toy for Goten in hopes of preventing a famous Son-Family-tantrum. The baby took the toy, instantly forgetting the allure of Piccolo's ears. He stuck the brightly colored object in his mouth and gummed it heartily.

"I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop in and check on you."

"That's sweet," Gohan slumped lazily against Piccolo's side, enjoying the warmth emanating from the Namekian. He ignored Piccolo's grunt of annoyance. It was all for show anyway. "Done anything fun lately?"

"Not unless you count mediating as fun."

Gohan giggled.

"You're boring, Mister Piccolo."

Piccolo's ears flicked. This time in genuine annoyance.

"Don't start that nonsense again, Kid."

"Right-O, Pick-oh-lo," Gohan sang back, positively glowing. Annoying Piccolo was his favorite past time, after all. It had been a really long time since the Namek had visited the Son household, although Gohan had flown by the Lookout several times. He hoped that Piccolo would stay a while, maybe until dinner. He was just about to suggest it when the front door opened, pushed to the side by his mother's hip. She was carrying an overflowing bin of garbage and other waste.

"Gohan, honey, it's time for Goten's –"she grunted as the bin lodged itself in the door – "Nap!" With a mighty shove, the little woman forced herself and the garbage bin through the door jamb. "And I need you to run some errands for me in town." Chichi set the bin down, straightening and turning to face her sons for the first time. She blinked, noticing Piccolo. She was surprised to see the tall, quiet Namek on her lawn. "Oh, hello, Piccolo," she offered him a polite smile which he returned with a nod of his head. Wondering briefly on his presence, Chichi continued. "As I was saying, I need you to go to the store and pick up the things on this list," a brightly colored scrap of paper was dug out of her pocket, cramped with her tight penmanship, "and run to the post office. I'm expecting a package from Grandpa."

"Can Piccolo come with me?"Gohan asked as he stood up.

Chichi raised an eye brow, but nodded.

"If he wants to. Now go put your brother to bed."

Gohan nodded and dashed inside the house, after taking Goten back from the Namek and begging him to wait. Chichi turned her attention to the compost heap down-wind from the house, barely stifling a groan at the sheer distance she now had to carry the heavy bin. There was, however, nothing else for it, and she stooped, bending at the knee and lifting the garbage with seeming ease.

Piccolo's sharp ears caught the noise of dismay. Before Chichi could take more than three stumbling steps with the massive garbage bin, Piccolo had taken it from her. He pointedly ignored her protest, and emptied the waste upon the compost heap. Silly woman was really going to hurt herself one of these days. He turned to address his friend's mother, trying his very best to appear tame.

"How," he paused, not entirely sure what to say. "How are you?" Piccolo privately remembered the emotional wreck she had been the few times he had stopped by to offer his assistance prior to and immediately following Goten's birth. "You look," Piccolo frowned; he had been going to say 'tired,' as was appropriate for the single mother of a three-month old half-Saiyan. However, 'tired' was too soft an adjective. Dark circles had formed around her once fiery eyes, her hair was untidy, and her cheek bones were far more noticeable than ever before. She wasn't what he would call 'gaunt,' but she had lost a noticeable amount of weight. "Thin," he finished quietly. Chichi frowned, and he knew she had recognized that it wasn't a compliment.

"My body can't keep up," she explained, crossing her arms self consciously across her chest. "It's like everything I eat goes right to Goten."

"Isn't Gohan helping?" Piccolo jerked his head towards the house. Gohan was inside now, putting the baby to bed.

"Yes," Chichi ran a hand over her exhausted face, "but Gohan can only do so much, and he can't feed him. That and the lack of sleep are killing me. I'm actually shocked I haven't gone dry yet, honestly."There was a bitterness in her voice he couldn't quite comprehend. He wasn't quite sure what she had meant by going "dry," nor did he wish to ask. Gohan had once explained to him that human mothers fed their young offspring with their bodies, but he hadn't let the boy finish. He allowed the silence to drag out between them. It didn't bother him, but she shifted slightly.

"How are you?" Piccolo tried again, hoping that Gohan would hurry up and personally wondering why he had agreed to accompany the boy into town.

"I got peed on today," she answered tiredly. An exhausted little smile played across her lips for a moment.

"Oh," his ears flicked in distaste. "Well that's…" He had no response other than: "Well, that's better than the other thing."


	2. How Long Are You Gonna Hesitate?

**Hey everybody! I think I have five people right now? ;) Aaaannnyywhooo. I forgot to write an author's note on chapter one. I always forget that I have to do that in the document upload... So here's chapter two! I am excited see where this goes, seeing as I only have bullet notes XD Just kidding I have more than that! :) Stick with me amigas y amigos :)**

**Thanks to:  
SSJ2 Silven  
NaaraHatake  
9thZFighter  
winterschild and  
ooOO-TheCrazyPixieGirl-OOoo  
for your reviews! **

**And for those of you who read "He Mele No Lilo" the songs are back :) Only this time I'm using lyrics. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Two – How Long are you gonna Hesitate? ("How Long" – Matchbox 20)**

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"I'm back!" Gohan called in a stage whisper from across the yard as he shut the door carefully behind him. "Come on, Piccolo." He looked to where his mother and best friend stood, crinkling his nose. Piccolo would probably smell like compost. Not cool. Bounding across the yard, he barreled into Piccolo, nearly sending them both into the rank compost heap.

"Watch it!" Piccolo snarled, stumbling away from the disgusting smelling slop. Gohan shook his head.

"Come onnnn we have to go so we can get back and you can stay for dinner!" he exclaimed, throwing grammar and proper sentence structure to the wind. "You'll stay for dinner, won't you? Can't he, Mom?" Gohan swiveled his head to look at his mother. She nodded slowly. Gohan whooped and dragged Piccolo skyward.

"Gohan! Did you grab money?" Chichi called up after them. Gohan called back an affirmative and grinned at Piccolo, who growled at him. It took the two Z Fighters a matter of minutes to traverse the skies over the little mountain town. No wonder they did so much gardening at home, Gohan mused, as he watched the countryside fly by beneath him. It probably took his mother hours to travel this distance! It was a pity that she had never learned to fly. Maybe he could teach her...

"Your mother barely has the energy to stand, let alone fly," Piccolo's deep voice broke through his thoughts. Gohan startled, turning his head to stare at his friend.

"Gee, Piccolo, I forgot that you can hear it when I think too loudly."

"I can hear you when you think in general," came the Namekian's grumbled reply. "You never think 'quietly,' Kid."

Gohan grinned sheepishly, angling downward as the town came into view below them. He caught Piccolo rolling his eyes at him, but ignored it. That grumpy exterior was a farce, and Gohan knew it. As his feet touched down on solid earth, something in Piccolo's words flared up to the forefront of his mind.

"Wait, what did you mean by that; 'she can barely stand?'"

Piccolo stared incredulously at Gohan, and the boy felt like a four year old again. "What?" He repeated.

"She's sick."

"N-no she isn't."

"Gohan," Piccolo was giving him a rather odd look. "Have you looked at her? She's too thin."

Gohan immediately conjured an image of his mother in his mind. She looked fine. Or at least...

"Sh-she has been...tired," he mumbled, remembering how defeated she'd looked after Goten's sprinkler display. "And she doesn't get as excited over my studies anymore."

"Hmph, you probably didn't notice since you've been with her every day," Piccolo said gently. Gohan nodded, suddenly guilty. How could he not have noticed? Wasn't he helping enough? Would it be different if...? "Probably." Again with the mind reading! "It's not my fault that you can't keep your thoughts to yourself." He wondered if it was only Piccolo, or if other telepaths could hear him too. "It's just me."

"Okay, please stop." Gohan snapped and crossed his arms. "Let's just go to the post office, and then the grocery store."

"Sorry Kid." Piccolo sounded genuine enough. It wasn't his fault that he was obnoxious. "I am not obnoxious."

"Yes, Pic, yes you are. And you love it."

The post office workers scrambled about like headless chickens as they scurried to and fro, searching for the Son family mail. Piccolo was making them nervous. The thought brought a twinkle to Gohan's eyes. Piccolo would never, ever hurt anyone. At least, he corrected himself, as long he was around Gohan, he wouldn't dare to so much as swat a fly.

"H-here you ar-are Mister Son, sir." The nervous postman handed Gohan a stack of mail. Mostly bills, some envelopes that might have been cards, and a large box, presumably the package his mother was expecting from Grandpa. Gohan nodded his thanks, turning around and handing the items to Piccolo. The former demon glared daggers at the boy, but a slight tilt of Gohan's head forced him to give in.

"Have a nice day!" Gohan called as he ushered Piccolo out of the tiny government building. "You just love to make people shudder, don't you, Piccolo?"

"I thought that man was going to wet himself," the Namek's voice held a certain amount of glee; Gohan knew that he was likely the only person who would be able to pick up on such a subtle lilt in Piccolo's tone.

"You've still got it, Sir."

The grocery store was much the same as the post office, with the cashiers shaking at the sight of Piccolo. The novelty of a seven foot tall green man had long since worn off on the Son boy, and apparently the small noises of fear were beginning to irritate Piccolo, who snarled nastily at the bagger to hurry it up. "Or I'll eat you," he had added the threat. Gohan couldn't tell if he was being genuinely nasty, or putting on a show for his own amusement.

Piccolo carried the mail, Gohan the groceries. The duo flew slowly, Gohan setting the pace deliberately. He tried to use the excuse of being careful with the food. But he knew that Piccolo saw through it. No, the boy wanted to think.

"Do you," he hesitated, then began again, "Do you think I'm not doing enough to help?"

"You can't replace your father, Gohan."

"I know I can't," Gohan angled his body so he flew closer to Piccolo. "But I thought I was doing enough, I thought I was doing everything I could to help Mom out, but now I'm not so sure." He looked pleadingly at Piccolo, imploring his dearest friend for guidance. For a moment, Gohan thought that Piccolo was going to brush him off, ignore him as he was prone to do when he didn't know the answer.

"Your mother is prideful woman," he replied, surprising the boy. "I'm sure that there is more that you are capable of doing, but she'll never let you."

Gohan nodded. That sounded like Chichi. "If possible, convince her to let you keep Goten with you during the day, allowing her to catch up on lost sleep."

"That's a good idea, Piccolo! But, what if he gets hungry? I can't…_feed_…him, and Mom won't buy formula, so I _really_ can't feed him." He saw the look of confusion on Piccolo's face, and opened his mouth to explain, but the Namek shook his head, signifying that he did not want to know anything more on the subject. "That could work though," Gohan rambled, "we do have bottles, I wonder if it's like a cow where –" But Piccolo had heard enough; he made a small noise of distress before picking up speed and pulling ahead of Gohan. The boy grinned evilly. Oh how much fun his little demon was to torment.

Their feet touched down on the front lawn.

"Mom, we're home," Gohan had to set the groceries down to open the door. He picked them up, peering inside. It was dark. Concerned, Gohan stepped across the door frame, feeling Piccolo right behind him. "Mom?"

There was thump, a small hissed curse word that he couldn't make out but made Piccolo chuckle, and a light flicked on in the living room. Chichi was pushing herself up off the couch awkwardly. A large book lay on the floor – the source of the thumping noise, Gohan decided. "Sorry we woke you, you can go back to sleep."

"No, no I'm fine. That nap was more than enough." She was lying, Gohan thought as she tried to stifle a yawn. "Oh good, that package came from Dad." Gohan watched as Piccolo set the stack of mail down on the kitchen table. His mother immediately began sorting through it, placing bills in one pile, cards and letters in another. "That's odd," she murmured, picking up two identical envelopes, both large and a bright, shimmering blue. "This one's addressed to you, 'Daimao Piccolo, Jr.'"

"But I don't live here," he muttered, taking the envelope.

"That's Bulma's handwriting!" Gohan piped up.

"Oh," Chichi's face fell slightly as she opened the invitation – for that was what the metallic envelope contained. "It's for Bulma's winter party."

There hadn't been a winter party last year, Gohan remembered. Bulma had canceled it in honor of Goku's death.

"Bulma must have sent your invite to us since you don't have a house, Pic" Gohan said, moving to stand next to his mother. He examined the elegant invite, reading the message scrawled beneath the general information.

_Chichi and Gohan -_

_I insist that you two come and join us this winter. I haven't seen either of you since Goten's first check up in the city. My fault of course. Too busy. Ugh. Anyway, I'm expecting you. And don't use Goten as an excuse to stay home, Chi. I have arranged for a reputable nanny to care for Trunks and Goten while you and Gohan enjoy yourselves._

_Talk to you soon,_

_Bulma_

_PS – I sent Piccolo's invite to you guys since Gohan's the only one who ever knows where he is. And make him come too. He needs to socialize._

_~BB_

Gohan giggled.

Piccolo scowled.

Chichi shook her head at them both.

"I'm not going," the Namek said flatly. "I absolutely _detest_ parties."

"Ooh, good vocab word, Piccolo!"

* * *

**The real plot starts in the next chapter! XD I swear. Ch 3 is about half done but I'm updating NGU first... :)  
****I'm writing Ch 5 of Never Grow Up even as I type this. T****hat will be up soon, annnnd I'm working out kinks in the plot for a sequel to HMNL... :)**  


**Please review and tell me I'm wonderful. :) I love you all. And go check out my other stuff. THAT'S AN ORDER! HOP TO IT! Just kidding. I can't force you.  
****But I can beg! ;) I would put a cute little heart in this author's note too, but the "less than" sign doesn't show up... Looks like a bunch of 3's. Annnooyyyyiiing.  
**

**See you in Chapter Three :)**


	3. Going Down Swinging

**Chapter Three – Going Down Swinging ("Sugar We're Going Down" – Fall Out Boy)**

**Sorry about this guys! My computer threw a tantrum and I couldn't work for a while… :-( It was wretched. But now my computer is being a good little love. Aren't you computer? Yes, yes you are. He's a cookie.**

**I'm really, really, really sorry! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll have chapter four up sooner. I PROMISE! The plot is going really kick off in the next chapter. For realsies. Oh annnd there will be a few OC's thrown in the next few chapters but they're not going to be important for anything except moving the plot along. By the way… This might end up getting a little risqué. Not enough to bump the rating, but if you're not a Freshman in High School or older… Just kidding. I was watching and reading naughty things in Middle School. And I can't control you anyway. I'm just someone writing fanfics. XD And like I said, the rating's not being bumped to M. So I think as long as you're 13 or older you're technically allowed to read this :-) **

**Anyway. On with the story.**

Chichi rolled her eyes. Boys.

"Don't be ridiculous, Piccolo. You're going." She didn't even have to turn around to know that he was glaring at her. The woman could feel his intense eyes on her back. In earlier years, it would have made her skin crawl. Now, however, Chichi could barely suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "And don't you give me that look Mister."

She heard Gohan stifle a giggle.

"I most certainly am not going; parties are abhorrent wastes of time better spent." Chichi actually had to cover her mouth to stop the laughter escaping her mouth. She wondered if he was pointedly ignoring her order to stop staring at her with the devil eye. Definitely. Yep, those were definitely his eyes boring _right_ through her. Lovely. Still, she couldn't pass up this opportunity to poke fun at the warrior.

"Did you borrow one of Gohan's vocabulary books?" she choked, "you just used two rather advanced words in the span of about a minute." Chichi turned around, leaning against the table. The corner of her mouth twitched in an attempt to hide a warm, if tired, smile.

Piccolo rolled his eyes.

"For your information I am an incredibly intelligent individual with three extra sets of knowledge added to my own." He looked so indignant it was actually comical; arms crossed, brows arching and eyes rather wide. A definite flush was visible on his face. "And I'm not going to Bulma's absurd little get together."

"Relax, Tiger," Chichi teased, "and don't fret your little green head. I'm sure you'll look absolutely dashing in a tux." She winked at him. "Is that what you're worried about? Looking silly?"

Gohan's eyes were wide, although she wasn't sure if he was terrified that he'd have to restrain the Namekian from killing her or if it was mere mirth at her boldness.

"You are incorrigible, Chichi. Incorrigible."

"Mom, please leave him alone. I'm not sure I can stop him if he tries to kill you."

Piccolo rolled his eyes, and Chichi shook her head. She was well aware that the boy was more than capable of handling the Namek. She was also confident that Piccolo wouldn't do more than growl at her. Still, she relented.

"Alright, fine. But," she poked Piccolo in the chest, "this discussion is not over, got it? Now help me make dinner. Gohan, you're on table duty. Piccolo, toss your weights outside. I'm putting you in charge of heavy and high items."

"Rrah," the former demon turned around and opened the door, shedding his weighted cape and turban on the door step. "I hope you trip," he muttered, shooting Chichi an annoyed glance.

"Oh shut up." She cleared the mail off of the table, into a designated basket and set the invitation on the top of the pile. Chichi paused, staring at it for a long moment. She shook her head, turning away from the envelope and began ordering the boys around.

Gohan cheerfully obeyed his mother's commands, setting the table properly, as was expected in Son Chichi's house. His feet never touched the ground, a fact that made him rather pleased with himself. Flying was a breeze, but the precise movements required for hovering around the house without breaking anything was a far more complex practice. He was very close to mastering it. Despite his personal glee in regards to his own improving skills, the boy kept a careful eye in his mother. Piccolo was right; she was moving a little more slowly, and had indeed lost not only weight, but muscle as well. And there he was, clueless to her inner plight. Gohan floated across the floor, around Piccolo and stopped next to mother. He took a large tray from her hands.

"I'll take that, Mom." he said firmly, but holding a gentle smile on his face.

"Don't eat it," she warned, giving him a long hard look. Gohan's eyes flicked down to the contents of the tray for the first time. Instantly, his mouth filled with fluid and his stomach gurgled hungrily.

"N-no problem," he replied as he eyed the succulent steak. Gohan swallowed. Even the short walk to the kitchen table would be torturous! Don't look at it, do not inhale. Don't drool either. Do not engage, do not engage, do not - Goten wailed from the bedroom. "I'll get him!" Gohan squeaked, hurriedly setting the roasted dinosaur steak down and zipping off down the hall to the master bedroom. Chichi and Piccolo didn't even have time to speak before the boy was gone. Gohan hooked himself over the baby's crib, cooing at the wee babe in an effort to stop his screams. "Are you hungry? Do you need a changing?" Goten momentarily stopped crying and blinked at him, before screaming bloody murder again and flailing his little fists around in the air. "Ohh, there, there Goten." Gohan lifted the baby up, bouncing him gently. His nose crinkled as a rather nasty aroma assailed his nostrils. "Phew, you stink!" It only took a few minutes to clean and change the baby. Cradling the now quiet Goten in his arms, Gohan headed back to the kitchen; it was almost time for his feeding, and the baby would want to be the center of attention. Hearing the shushed sounds of an argument, Gohan paused, ducking behind the wall and peering out into the kitchen.

"I still don't understand why it means so much to you that I go the stupid party." Piccolo hissed, voice so low that Gohan had to strain his ears to hear him. Not only was the Namek whispering, but his back was facing the boy, shoulders hunched as he helped Chichi with something on the table. "If you're not concerned about Gohan being entertained, I don't understand why you're pushing me." He had placed an odd stress upon the pronoun. "It's not like there will be strangers -"

Chichi cut him off, slamming a fist down on the table. He couldn't get a clear look at her face as her bangs obscured his view, but Gohan knew from the line of her slant of her neck that she wanted to end the conversation.

"I just don't to be _alone_!" There was a definite hint of angry tears in her voice. "And _don't_ say that Gohan and all of my friends are going to be there; you _know_ what I _mean_." What did she mean? Gohan frowned, puzzling over her words. "I've barely been out since Goku left." Oh. "And if you come, at least I know I won't be the only one there without a _dance partner_!"

"Alright, alright. _Fine_. But I'm only giving in now since you'll just tell Gohan to unleash his powers of persuasion on me. I'm not in the mood to lose out to his damned puppy face." Piccolo sighed, and Gohan saw some tension leave his mother's body. "Do I really have to wear one of those..." the Namekian paused, apparently searching for the proper term, "tuxedoes? Those form fitting pants do not suit me. And the jackets are far too tight across the shoulders."

Gohan was relieved to see his mother smile at his long time friend. She still looked like any small trigger would send her into hysterics, but the smile was enough to distract him from that, just long enough for a small plan to form in his over active mind.

Dinner passed without much excitement; Piccolo only ate a small amount of salad and drank a tall glass of juice, while Chichi had a normal helping of everything, with Gohan finishing off the rest of the meal. Chichi had excused herself from the table when Goten began to fuss, and took the baby down the hall to feed him.

"I'm heading out, Kid." Piccolo said as he helped Gohan stack dishes in the sink. "Stop by the Lookout tomorrow and we'll spar."

The boy nodded.

"Yes sir!"

"And Gohan..." the Namek gave him a sidelong glance. "What is this 'plan' that struck you while you eavesdropped?"

Gohan flushed, once again, his thoughts had leaked! Piccolo ought to teach him how to block. "I'll show if you come to the Lookout tomorrow." The half-Saiyan laughed quietly. Of course.

"As for my plan, I'll tell you tomorrow, there are some serious details I still need to work out. And as for blocking, yes. This whole accidental sharing thing is going to be _pretty_ awkward for you when I hit puberty for real. Or can you not hear me if we're far apart?"

"Uh," Piccolo's nose crinkled, and Gohan giggled as he tried to imagine what the Namekian was thinking in regards to 'puberty.' "It's worse when we're together. Otherwise I typically only hear you if you're panicked or calling me directly." Piccolo dried his hands on a towel, tossing it down on the counter and preparing to leave. "See you tomorrow, Kid."

"Cool. Hey don't you want to say goodbye to mom?"

"No." Gohan tilted his head to the side, bangs falling away from his eyes. Piccolo glared at him. "Don't even think about it. I will punch you so hard, your _father_ will feel it if you so much as dare to use the puppy face for something so trivial."

"That's nice," Chichi's voice cut into the conversation. Piccolo's ears twitched in what Gohan assumed to be annoyance. He watched a muscle spasm on Piccolo's jaw before he turned around.

"I'll come by sometime next week," Piccolo grumbled, sounding utterly defeated. Gohan always did find it amusing how easily the Namek caved, even if it was only for a select few people, mainly the Son family. It was a pity he's missed the first half of the conversation between the warrior and the housewife. "Although I can't possibly see how Goku's old tuxedo is going to fit me." There was absolutely no way that was going to work.

"I can always make alterations," Chichi offered. "It wouldn't be perfect but -"

"As soon as I see what they look like I can make one easily enough. Save yourself some trouble." He started for the door.

"I'll see you around noon?" Gohan piped up before he had quite reached it.

"Sure Kid. Night."

"Bye," Chichi said softly. "And shut the door quietly, Goten's in the light sleeping stage." A shadow of her usual bossiness seeped into her voice, but it was only enough to make the Namek's ears twitch as he exited, slowly puling the heavy door closed behind him.

"Bed time, Mister."

"Aww but _Mommm_!"

She didn't want to look at the clock. She really had no desire to discover at what ungodly hour her baby had awoken. Kicking off the covers and stumbling out of bed, Chichi swallowed a whimper. It was so cold. She murmured sweet nothings to the wailing infant as she made her way over to him. He couldn't possibly be hungry, could he? Of course he could. He was Goku's son, after all. She wasn't entirely sure that her body would be able to continue this schedule much longer. Why was it this much harder this time? With Gohan, she had been eager. Excited. Exhausted by the end of it, but enthralled. Gathering the baby up from his crib, she proceeded to feed him. Goten latched on immediately and suckled greedily. Chichi sighed, walking back over to her bed.

She loved him. Just as much as Gohan, she really did. He was so beautiful, so _damn_ beautiful. She looked at him and was filled with so much love she thought her heart would burst. Whenever he gurgled and raised his round brown eyes to hers, she wanted to cry, that's how much she loved him. Chichi wanted nothing more than to hold him all day long, to nurture him, to raise him into another little gentleman, like Gohan.

But she really didn't want to raise this baby by herself. She shook her head, blinking rapidly. No time for such thoughts. Not now.

Chichi felt her eyelids drooping. There was no way that she would be able to make it back over to Goten's crib. Sleep was stealing over her. She knew she couldn't fight it. Goten's high pitched little yawn tipped her over the edge, especially when he nuzzled closer to her motherly warmth. Chichi wrapped her arms protectively around her youngest, even as sleep took her.

She only wished there was someone there to hold her, too.

Chichi awoke the next morning when Gohan burst into her room, gabbing excitedly about something. She jolted awake, quickly covering her exposed chest and adjusting her hold on Goten.

"Morning, Baby," she gasped, the sleep surprised right out of her. Goten cooed happily. "Morning, morning."

"Oops," Gohan blushed. "Sorry Mom!"

"I-it's fine, sweetie." Chichi swallowed a yawn, "what were you saying?"

"I had a really good dream," her eldest said sheepishly, and she barely stopped her eyes from rolling. "I was a really successful scientist and I found a way to use Piccolo's regenerative abilities – like in his blood and whatever – to save people with third degree burns all over their bodies! Like growing back the skin and repairing nerve endings. I even got a Nobel Prize!"

"And how," Chichi asked with a bemused smile on her face as she handed off the infant to her eldest, "did you get Piccolo to donate his freaky alien genes to the betterment of society?"

"Oh," Gohan bounced Goten in his arms, "yeah, well, I had to knock him out first. He didn't like…needles in my…dream." The smile faded from his face to be replaced by a frown. Chichi caught the look on his face. So he wasn't as over it as he had been acting. "That's funny actually."

"Gohan," she said quietly, "I miss him too."

The boy nodded. She patted the mattress beside her, and Gohan sat down next to her. She pulled him and Goten into her lap, fiddling with Gohan's hair. "It's okay to miss him, honey."

"Hey, Mom?"

"Mmh?"

"Were you this tired when I was a baby?"

"No," Chichi sighed, when did Gohan get so heavy? "I was in a different place emotionally, and I…" She trailed off, eyes stinging. It hurt. It hurt to think about Goku, even after a year. It hurt to admit to her son that she was having trouble coping, although she suspected that he knew some of it.

"You…had Dad, last time."

"Yeah."

Chichi tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek against Gohan's temple. She looked down at her two precious angels, and it was easy to be angry at Goku, no matter how much she wanted to forgive him. But she couldn't. She kissed Gohan's forehead. They remained that way for a long time, Goten even slipping back into slumber.

"What time are you going up to the lookout?" Chichi asked after the comfortable silence turned stale. "I'll pack you a lunch and some extra for Dende, Piccolo and Mister Popo."

"Oh," Gohan shifted his head slightly, "no, Mom don't bother with that! Mister Popo loves to cook and since he's only had Namekians for the past three hundred years or whatever he hasn't had the chance to recently. He'll jump at the chance to feed a pre-pubescent Saiyan." Chichi gently shifted him off of her lap and took the slumbering infant from him. She stared at her son with suspicion.

"Spill it."

"Spill what?" his gaze shifted slightly from hers. "I just don't want you doing anything extra. That's all. I just want you to sit down on the couch with Goten and read through that stack of books I gave you for your birthday that you haven't touched yet."

She stared incredulously at the boy. Did he really think she had the time to do nothing? Why, there were dishes to wash, floors to polish, windows to clean, toilets to scrub, homework to grade, - oh God, she hadn't graded any of Gohan's assignments from the past three days. There was absolutely no way she had any free time to squander on relaxation.

"Gohan, I can't possibly –"

"Take a nap, watch a movie?"

That sounded pretty nice, actually, a nap. Chichi allowed a sigh to escape.

"Alright, fine. I'll take it easy. You'd better get ready, I know how Piccolo hates to be kept waiting."

Gohan beamed up at her, leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"Promise me you'll take it easy today, Mom?"

She nodded, kissing his forehead.

"I promise."

Piccolo felt the boy coming, and shifted out of his meditative trance.

"He had better be ready for a spar," he muttered, rolling his head from side to side, reveling in the sound of his neck realigning itself. Piccolo cracked his knuckles and shook the sleepiness from his legs. "Hey, Kid."

"Hi Piccolo," Gohan said as he landed on the tiles of the Lookout. He was clad in Piccolo's colors. Indeed, he had even donned his training weights. If it weren't for the skin and the hair… Piccolo shook his head.

"Thought you'd have been here an hour ago."

"It's only half-past-noon!" the Saiyan argued, crossing his arms. "I had to make Mom breakfast, and lunch, and then clean up."

"She let you?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty shocked too."

The Namek shrugged. Good, she wasn't as hard headed as he thought. The boy wouldn't be distracted during a spar, and, more importantly, he wouldn't have to trouble himself about the obnoxious little woman.

"Ready to spar?"

"What, here?" Gohan's forehead crinkled incredulously. "Now?"

"No, not here idiot, island. And yes, now." The boy's musings were drifting through their rapport, but were such a jumbled mess he couldn't understand anything. "Spit it out."

"You know that's the second time today someone's said that to me."

Piccolo aimed a kicked at the boy. He aptly dodged it.

"Spill it, Kid."

Gohan bit his lip, and looked up at Piccolo rather sheepishly. The Namekian's stomach twisted in apprehension. Nothing good could come out of that look. Absolutely nothing. Then the Kid said it. The sentence he had somehow known Gohan would say. And the very one he had been dreading to hear.

"I think we need to jumpstart Mom's love life."

**Hopefully that wasn't too terrible :- ) Chapter four will be up soon. And I know I said that I would update "Never Grow Up" before I updated "Matchmaker" but I had more inspiration for this. Sorry… I'm working on it… I'm working on it… I love it and need to finish it. But this was calling out to me. And I've been drawing Chiccolo recently. Go check out my DeviantArt (ShirePower, link in profile). So I kind of needed to write it. Especially since it's coming. Hopefully five or six more chapters before… Well I'll let you guys read and find out. **


	4. And it Won't Take Long to Burn

**Chapter Four - And it Won't Take Long to Burn... ("All Eyes On Me" - Goo Goo Dolls)**

**Not so bad this time, right? Maybe a little shorter of an update, but we're moving forward! How's it going? I'm doing fantastic. WHO WANTS A CHRISTMAS SHORT? I want to write a Christmas short. I think I will. I have a Christmas Comic halfway done : ) I'm excited for it. I'm going to finish it tomorrow! Anyhoo, here's chapter 4. Enjoy!**

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Piccolo stared incredulously at Gohan. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, once, twice, almost like it had ceased its movements. He blinked. Mouth open. Closed. Ears twitch. Piccolo slowly crossed his arms.

"What...do you mean...'we'?" The Namek had half a mind to tell the boy that Chichi was _his_ mother, _not_ Piccolo's, and therefore was _his_ problem. He opened his mouth to say so, but Gohan beat him to the punch.

"Please Piccolo, just hear me out!" His jaw snapped shut with an audible click of his fangs. Gohan smiled up at him, relief plastered upon his features. Stupid Kid. "See, Mom's tired because she's lonely, and she's lonely because she misses Dad." Piccolo folded his legs up underneath him, floating above the surface of the Lookout. This was going to take a while. "And if she's not missing Dad, she's mad at him, or taking care of Goten, who just reminds her of Dad..." Piccolo half listened; he had long since learned to filter the boy's ramblings and would know when the point was finally reached. While Gohan prattled on about this or that or another thing pertaining to his mother, Piccolo enjoyed the feel of the wind tugging at his cape, brushing past his ears and tickling his face. Finally, Gohan's senseless babble seemed to draw to a close, and the Namek's brain tuned back in to the conversation. "I'm not suggesting we arrange a marriage or anything, just find her a date to Bulma's party."

Piccolo raised an eyebrow.

"I still don't see how nor why this involves my assistance. I know nothing about your silly little human rituals."

Gohan stuck his tongue out at the Namek. Piccolo narrowed his eyes. Anyone else whom dared to show him such disrespect would be in some serious agony - and bleeding. But this was Gohan. And Gohan was allowed to walk all over him. God only knew why.

"Come on Piccolo, you like Mom now!"

"I _tolerate_ your mother. I do not _like_ her." That wasn't entirely true, but the boy couldn't read his thoughts, so it mattered little.

"But," Gohan frowned, "you guys are getting along now, doesn't that mean -"

"No." That was a dangerous direction.

"You consider her a friend. If you didn't, you wouldn't have given in and agreed to go to the party." Gohan looked a little too smug for his liking.

Piccolo's face screwed itself up in as dangerous a glare as he could muster.

"Think what you will, Kid," he growled in response. It was his only hope of ending the conversation. And a feeble hope at that. Gohan, the infuriating creature that he was, plopped himself rather forcefully into Piccolo's lap. The warrior grunted. He was getting too big for this. A few stray thoughts from the boy's mind seemed to agree with Piccolo.

"So you'll help?"

"_How_? How could _I_ possibly be of any assistance **what**soever?"

Gohan tilted his head back, meeting Piccolo's gaze.

"You have a car, and a driver's license." The Namek felt his skin pale to a rather unhealthy shade of yellow. How on earth did Gohan know about that? He hadn't told anyone that! Not even - "Dende told me."

Of course. Dende. That spying little _wretch_. He supposed that the young deity would know about that escapade, seeing as it hadn't exactly been out of the little god's sight... He would have to be more careful in future endeavors.

"So does Krillin," Piccolo muttered, attempting to save face. "And Yamcha. Regardless, both you and your mother can ride Nimbus. _And_ you can fly her anywhere. So we're back to the beginning. Why do you need _me_?"

Gohan, head resting against Piccolo's bicep, rolled his eyes, as if the Namek was the one being stupid. He began to explain his logic slowly. So slowly, in fact, that Piccolo almost punched him.

"Any form of flying messes up her hair so that's out. Krillin is going out with 18, so he's _busy_. And if Yamcha's not playing baseball then he's hitting on women or watching porn. Not a good option for Mom. I don't _think_ Yamcha would flirt with her, but..." Gohan's brows furrowed slightly. "Well the Dragon won't grant the same wish twice. Since you don't have much of a social life, you're my most viable option."

Piccolo knew he had lost. Any second now, the boy would use his most deadly weapon to seal the deal. It was almost better to concede defeat now and maintain at least _some_ of his dignity. Besides, Gohan was right. He had no social life outside of interacting with Popo, Dende, and Gohan. And he kept even these interactions to a minimum. The Namek was about to relent when Gohan tilted his head. He saw it coming, the damned look. Not the puppy face... He tried not to look. But therein lay the problem. Not looking. The pull of the boy's dark eyes was impossible to resist, and Piccolo looked, hating himself the whole time. Oh please, don't add the kicked, abandoned, dying-of-a-broken-heart tears to the visage. It was like looking at a half-drowned kitten. The Namek swallowed. He had already given in. This was bordering on torture. He had been hoping that the face's potency would diminish as the boy grew. So far, its effectiveness was untouched by time.

"Gohan."

The boy's eyes grew larger. Impossible.

Piccolo tried to blink. He felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

"You. Owe. Me." Piccolo growled, "And I mean big, Kid. You owe me _big_."

"So you'll do it?!" Gohan sat up, his knee digging into Piccolo's hip. The Namek grunted. Ow. "You'll help me?" The boy gasped, "You're the best Piccolo!" Gohan threw his arms around Piccolo's neck, nearly choking the Namek. "I can find you a date for Bulma's too."

"No."

"Yep. I'm doing it. Mom only wanted you to go so she wouldn't be the only one without a dance partner. I don't want you to be by yourself."

"I'd rather just find your mother a date and not have to go at all," Piccolo muttered, reaching his arms up to disentangle the boy from his neck. He felt Gohan tighten his grip. He growled, low and rumbling in his chest, but Gohan ignored the warning in that innocent way of his.

"Mom already told Bulma that you're going."

"So what?" Piccolo snapped, pushing himself to his feet, Saiyan still dangling around his neck like some absurd necklace. "And I can tell you're lying, by the way. She hasn't RPVS'd yet."

Gohan giggled, the sound muffled in Piccolo's cape.

"It's 'RSVP' and I want you to go. Otherwise I'll be lonely." Gohan dropped to the ground. "I'm going to go see Dende real quickly and then we'll go to the island, okay?"

"Sure, Kid," Piccolo straightened his cape, frowning after his little friend as the Saiyan zipped across the Lookout to the palace, wherein Dende was studying with Mister Popo.

They sat together in the shade of a cliff, breathing heavily. Piccolo, glancing down at his ruined gi, glowed with pride for his not-so-little student. Here was a child that could destroy the planet without breaking a sweat, and yet wouldn't dream of harming even the most insignificant of creatures. Unless it was for food, but that was a different story. Gohan's eyes were closed, and his breath was quickly returning to an average rate. Black hair was plastered to his forehead, rivulets of sweat trickling down his face and dripping off of the stubbornly upright spikes of his wild hair. Gohan's lips were set in a tired smile.

Piccolo took a moment to focus on himself, his still thumping heart and heaving chest. Oh, how far the Kid had come.

"I didn't even...have to go...Super Saiyan, Piccolo," Gohan opened his eyes, "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

"So, what day are you coming over to," Gohan paused to draw a deep breath, "to look at a tux?"

Piccolo's nose crinkled, he hated human clothes! So tight, and thin. Fragile. The Namek shrugged.

"Wednesday? I don't know."

"Tuesday," Gohan replied, "it's closer." He watched as the boy squinted at the sun, judging its height by its angle to the horizon and the length of shadows. "Well," the boy sat up, grunting quietly as a bruised muscle protested, "I should probably go home and work on this whole blocking thing. Just think of a wall, huh?"

"Something solid and opaque, yes."

"And you'll help me convince Mom about this dating idea, right?" He glanced at Gohan's face, seeing the plea held on his every feature.

"Alright," Piccolo huffed, pushing the boy's shoulder. "But the moment she pulls out the Frying Pan from Hell I'm gone, got it?"

Gohan nodded vigorously.

"Deal." He turned to fly off, but Piccolo reached up and caught his arm. Gohan paused, turning to look quizzically at him, head tilting ever so slightly.

"Your clothes, Kid."

"Oh!" Gohan laughed, "I do look pretty beat up, don't I?" Piccolo nodded, smirking as the odd magics of the Namekians enveloped the Kid in a soft light. It soon disappeared, leaving the boy cloaked in an exact replica of Piccolo's own gi.

"Good as new." Gohan's bright eyes disappeared in his smile.

Piccolo rolled forward onto his knees, from there pushing himself to a standing position. "See you Tuesday," the Namek said, voice a low rumble. He ruffled the pre-teen's unruly black hair, suggested a haircut, and watched with soft eyes as the boy blasted towards home. Once Gohan was out of site and range, the Namek groaned, cursing himself for becoming so invested in the boy and his family. It had been so much easier when it was just him. But, he supposed, conjuring himself a new gi, he couldn't change the past, nor would he if given the option. So he was stuck. Completely and utterly. Piccolo shook his head and took off for the Lookout, contemplating the new mess in which he found himself.

_"Absolutely __**not**__, Gohan!"_

"Mom -"

"And who's going to take care of the _baby_?"

"I can -"

"What's he going to _eat_?"

"_**MOM**_." Gohan hissed in a loud whisper, "If you would just listen -"

Without meaning to, her voice rose above a quiet volume, increasing in pitch as she argued back.

"Gohan, I do not have the _time_ nor _energy_ for something so ridiculous! Do you really want me seeing someone? Really? It's been a _year_, Gohan -" Her throat constricted, images and emotions bombarding her, and her son leapt in, speaking calmly.

"I'm just saying that it might be good for you to get out if the house, and you love to dance, Mom," Chichi met his pleading eyes. "You love to dance and you want someone to dance with at Bulma's." Alright, so he had a point, as always. Images of twirling around a room held in Goku's arms flitted across her vision. Those high flying, warm, wonderfully comforting moments… With yet another headache looming on the horizon, Chichi downright growled, sitting heavily down in a chair. She didn't have the energy to continue the argument. It didn't help that Gohan undoubtedly had a rebuttal for each of her arguments.

"And you," she rounded on Piccolo, twisting in her chair to glare at the stoic green man reclining against the counter, "I suppose you're going along with this hare-brained scheme just so you don't have to go to the party?" Much to her satisfaction, Piccolo flinched. At least someone was still afraid of her.

"Gohan's making me go regardless," he muttered, sounding completely defeated; even his ears were wilting. "I assure you, I'd rather not have anything to do with this business."

Chichi sighed, rubbing her temples furiously and clenching her jaw. She couldn't agree to this! This, this blind-dating scheme of her son's... It was just impractical. There was no need for her to be seeing anyone! And she was so damned tired, all of the time. It just was not something the young woman could commit to at a time like this. What with the baby, Gohan's schoolwork, the house… Chichi opened her mouth, trying to decide exactly what she was going to say, how she could voice her issues.

"Why?" How disappointing. Why? Why what? She could feel the question settling in the suddenly heavy air around them. Almost like she could touch it. Palpable.

"You'll want to be a little more specific," Piccolo's low rumble rolled over her ears, although he kept his voice quiet.

"Why, Gohan," Chichi began again, trying to ignore Piccolo's eyes on the back of her neck, and simultaneously plotting a vast assortment of 'death by frying pan' scenarios, "do you want me to go on a series of 'blind dates?'"

Gohan smiled shyly at her, taking a seat across the table. He brushed dark bangs out of his eyes, and Chichi made a mental note to give the boy a haircut.

"Well," Gohan swallowed, "Piccolo and I were talking and we -"

"Do _not_ drag me into this, _**Boy**_. It was your idea." There was a definite growl in Piccolo's voice. She glanced over her shoulder at the prickled Namekian. His ears glowed a violent purple, the color bridging across face. Arms crossed, shoulders tense, jaw set in a queasy scowl.

"Alright, alright," Gohan glared daggers at Piccolo. "It was my idea and I just wanted him to help out." He scratched the back of his head, a pink hue lighting up his cheeks and nose. "But Piccolo put it in my head," Chichi and Gohan pointedly ignored the outrage noise of protest from the Namek. "And then I…overheard…your guys' conversation the other night, and I started to think about stuff, and I thought that maybe," Gohan swallowed, "maybe you're lonely and… That you might like a break every now and then. Just once a week." Don't look at him. She could hear it in his voice. It was coming. The greatest weapon ever bestowed unto mankind.'

"Go-haaaaan," Chichi gritted her teeth, trying to stare through him, rather than at him. But those damned eyes. Had he ever tried this on enemies? Surely it would work… Quivering lip, wide, bright, shimmering eyes… Raven fringe fell across his forehead. No. No… She felt her resolve slipping, sliding away after each nanosecond of gazing into those hypnotic orbs. Could it hurt? Really hurt, to relax, live a little? She never had dated. It had been childhood, marriage to Goku, child number one, drama, widowhood, child number two, and now… Now what? Her mouth moved against her will, the words "okay, fine, I'll do it," tumbling out of open lips before she could swallow them. The Look vanished from Gohan's face, and Chichi muttered a vehement curse under her breath. Piccolo snorted behind her. Gohan grinned. "If I ever, and I mean _ever_," Chichi snarled, eyes narrowing, "hear you repeat that, I will kill you. Super Saiyan or not."

"Oh Mom," Gohan laughed, "Piccolo taught me _that_ one on my fifth birthday."

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**So, a little short, I'll admit. I have been rather busy... I'll jump right on Chapter Five. Until then...**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!  
****(I will not have the next chapter up before Christmas. Unless something unexpected happens.)**

**To come: **

**Boobs, embarrassment, and Pic in a Tuxedo. **

**WULFEH/ShirePower 3**


	5. Don't Look Away, look away, This Time

**So my computer is having amother tantrum, and this whole chapter was done on my iPad. I feel so technologically advanced... Anyway, that's mostly the cause for this delay.  
**

**I know I promised boobs last chapter but they'll have to wait! Pic _is_ in a tux though! I'm having a great time writing this. Thank you to everyone whom hasread and reviewed thus far. For the most part, everyone has been wonderful. I am going to formally apologize for making a dig on Yamcha's character last chapter. If it offended anyone, it wasn't meant in bad grace. Annnnd he may not even show up in this fic.**

**Annnnd it isn't on my dA yet since my computer issues are preventing me from uploading, but I doodled Pic in a tux... :3 soon, my friends...soon.**

**Oh yeah, language warning.**

**Anyhoo, enjoy! Go nuts**.

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Chapter Five – Don't look away, look away this time (Honey Let Me Sing You a Song - Matt Hires)

Sharp ears twitched at the sounds of rustling fabric. Several muted noises of frustration could be heard from the closet. He leaned against the door jamb, eyes closed, head bowed, reluctant to take another step into the room. Chichi swore again.

"Stupid – damn – fucking thing!" Piccolo's ears flattened as the sounds of what were probably several boxes toppling off of a high shelf bounced off his eardrums. Chichi's muffled yelp almost made him pass through the door jamb, but her snarled oath not a moment later stayed his movements. Idiot woman was fine. Piccolo released a breath that he hadn't acknowledged holding.

"Do you," he hesitated, shuffling in place, "need any help?"

"No!" Infuriating woman. "I am perfectly capable of pulling my late husband's tuxedo out of its box! Thank you," she appeared out of the closet, nudging fallen debris roughly to the side. She had a large white package clutched tightly to her chest. His dark eyes followed her over to the dresser, where she laid the box down, almost reverently. His ears pricked, picking up on a quiet sigh. "Well, get over here!" Piccolo narrowed his eyes, brows tilted upwards ever so slightly. He distinctly remembered getting brained with a reading lamp last time he had fully entered this particular room. Chichi turned to glare at him. "Do you want to try the tux on or not? Get your green and pink ass in here." She pointed imperiously at the floor next to here, between Goten's crib and the dresser. Piccolo frowned. Chichi's slightly disheveled appearance both decreased his wariness and multiplied it tenfold. On the one hand, she lacked the strict, dictator air that he had learned to respect and fear, but the loose strands and stray hairs made her look like a madwoman. He gritted his teeth, but followed her orders. "About time," she muttered.

"Just give the damn monkey-suit."

She laughed, carefully unfolding the old white tuxedo and holding out each individual piece.

Now he was just confused. Chichi had been wonderfully kind when he had dropped by the week before, tolerable that evening, terrifying only moments before, and now she was laughing. Infuriating, confusing species, women, the Namek thought privately, taking the tux from her. He held the jacket out in front of him. "Does it…does it have to be…" his nose crinkled in distaste, "white?"

"No," Chichi replied, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the dresser. "Most are black. And no, you're not allowed to make it purple."

Piccolo's jaw snapped shut with click. Damn it.

"You can have a purple vest and tie if it makes you happy." Well, wasn't that nice of her, considering his feelings. For once. "Well, what are you waiting for? Either put it on, or doodle a pattern."

"Where's the bathroom?"

"What," Chichi uncrossed her arms, leaning forward ever so slightly. He did not like the look on her face, thin eyebrow arching delicately over her large brown eyes. It occurred to him that Gohan had inherited those eyes. He blinked. Damn. "Can't you just zap it on?"

"If I make it," Piccolo growled, "I can't zap on something that already exists. And this will be far too small," he held it up in front of him, the tiny white jacket barely stretched across his chest, let alone his shoulders. "It would rip. Shred."

"Well, zap-zap, Pixie." She jabbed one finger into his chest.

"Don't call me that. It's Piccolo or nothing." He handed her Goku's jacket.

Chichi took the white tuxedo, clutching it to her chest for a moment before folding it meticulously and placing it in its box. She traced the collar lovingly, breathing a deep sigh. Closing the lid, Chichi turned to face Piccolo once again, putting her mask back on. Sure, she was tired, and the Namek saw it, but that didn't mean he had to see how much it hurt, every freaking day. "Got it, Chi?"

"Chichi," she corrected him, eyes flashing dangerously. "That, is Goku's name for me. No one else may call me that, got it?"

"Then it's Piccolo."

"Put on the tux." She looked away, averting her gaze. "If you're too chicken to get naked in front of me, the bathroom is over there." She pointed.

He glowered at her, and she glared right back. Piccolo spun on his heel, stalking over to the tiny bathroom. Chichi watched him. "Hurry it up, Piccolo."

She actually smirked when he flipped a rather half-assed finger her way, "you don't really have a middle finger, you know."

A flash of light from the bathroom caught her attention. If that bastard had flown the coop, she would kill him, Demon King or not. Light footfalls, barefoot, padded across her eardrums. Piccolo walked out of the bathroom, and Chichi's eyes widened slightly, brows shooting up her forehead. Her lips parted slightly, forming an 'O' as she eyed the tall man in front of her. Her eyes, starting at his feet, traveled up his pant legs; this was the second time she had seen Piccolo in human clothes, and the first time they had fit. Wow, was that fabric supposed c"to - Chichi blinked several times, that was not an appropriate thought to entertain, at all.

"Well," Piccolo held out his hands, "How do I look?" The question snapped her back into reality. She shook her head, a jerk, and finished her inspection. White shirt, tucked into form fitting pants -that clever prick, the fabric reflected the light in a deep purple highlight - hidden behind a vest in his trademark violet color. A matching tie completed the outfit. The classy attire accentuated his broad shoulders while trimming his surprisingly small waist. What a difference from his usual loose, oversized fighting gi. He really covered himself up... Chichi fumbled over words, placing a hand on her hip, using the other as a pointer.

"You, uh," she hesitated, "you look," Chichi blinked, searching for something to distract her from the man's appearance, "your tie isn't tied right." She stepped closer to him, "I'll fix it, hold on." She grabbed the tie and pulled, bringing him down to a more workable height. Piccolo grunted, but didn't draw away from her. Chichi hurriedly fixed the violet tie, fingers expertly smoothing out any wrinkles in the material. "Th-there, all fixed up." She smiled at him, his dark eyes meeting hers. He didn't move.

"Oh boy, am I interrupting something?" Chichi started, and Piccolo straightened. He looked confused. Chichi cleared her throat, backing away slowly. She bumped into the dresser. Gohan had a rather mischievous look on his face.

"I was fixing his tie." The words came out rather defensively, too much so, she thought.

"Oh," Gohan grinned, bouncing Goten in his arms. "I was just going to get ready for bed, but I thought that I'd see whaT was going on." Chichi brushed past Piccolo to take the baby from her eldest, it was past the infant's bath time! That meant his bed schedule would be off... Oh bother! If he kept her up...

Stepping into the bathroom, Chichi nearly tripped over Piccolo's discarded gi pants. Swallowing a vile oath, she stumbled forward, catching herself. The movement upset Goten, whose face scrunched as he began to fuss.

"Piccolo!" Chichi patted Goten's back, trying to distract him from crying. "Come and get your damn clothes off the floor! They almost killed me!" her mothering sense of super hearing tingled, "What did you say?" She did not receive an audible response from Piccolo. However, the purple fabric lifted from the tile and folded itself, zipping out of the room. "Thank you."

While bathing Goten, she listened to the quiet conversation on the other side of the door frame. It was the usual talk; fighting, power levels, meditation, etcetera. She noted that Piccolo pointedly steered the conversation away from the Cell Games, and even the Super Saiyan transformation. He always had been surprisingly in-tune to her son and his emotions. Goten splashed her, but it did little to distract her.

"Watch it, Kid. This will wrinkle."

Her ears perked at that. Craning her head to peer around the doorframe without moving from Goten, Chichi managed to catch sight of the two, and she smiled. Gohan had his arms wrapped around Piccolo's waist, while the Namekian ruffled the boy's hair patiently. She couldn't help but smile. At the same time, a pang of loneliness hit her in the chest. Gohan had Piccolo... But she was alone.

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**Another short one, I'm so sorry! Chapter Six will be longer I PROMISE. And there will be boobs! Boobs are one of my favorite things. I'm straight I swear! Lol but I would be gay for Chichi... Yeah I said it! ...Thankfully Piccolo is here is keep me from being tempted. Lucky bastard.**

**Up next: Boobs (for realsies this time), Bulma, Bonding and a blind date! Oh, and there's a high possibility that Piccolo will be getting "the talk" XD **


	6. Take Your Heart and Walk Away

**Part of this chaper was written while watching an incredibly emotional episode of Supernatural... Like I was crying my damn eyes out...**  
**Deany is watching a Soap Opera...in Spanish!**  
**In other news I just got my hair highlighted. I feel so sassy with my bright cherry streaks.**

**Annnd I have doodled a scene to be put on dA later... Whoot. Props to whomever guesses first in a review. I might even write a tiny one-shot to put in my "Collection of Shorts!" XD for that person. I have to put guesses *first* in a review since I don't think it'll be that hard to guess whom I drew and what scene... ;-) Love to you all and enjoy! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed :)**

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**Chapter Six! You Turn, You Take you Heart and Walk Away (The Mess I Made, Parachute)**

"Wait, so you'll help?" Gohan asked excitedly, clutching the phone tightly. Not too tightly, he reminded himself before the fragile plastic could crack under his strength. "Thank you, Bulma, _thank you_! Mom was reluctant to let me meet people for her and Piccolo. Said that I'm just a kid and -"  
_"Wait, Piccolo too?"_ Bulma's voice sounded fuzzy over the receiver_. "Well, I can try..."_  
"As long as she isn't too loud he should be okay," Piccolo was a reasonable person; smart, even witty when the moment took him. "Or stupid. He hates stupid people." He continued to babble for a few minutes, even as Bulma tried to interrupt him. "Oh, sorry, what?" Bulma laughed.  
_"I was just wondering,"_ she chuckled, and he frowned. _"Um, does... Does Piccolo, er, like girls?"_  
Gohan's mouth opened slightly, closed, opened again, formed a tiny 'o' and crinkled. He turned around, leaning up against the kitchen counter, feet scooting out in front of him slightly as his socks failed to find a grip on the linoleum.  
"You mean... Is he gay?"  
_"Essentially."_  
There was a moment of silence.  
"How does one tell?"

"No I am not _'gay_,'" Piccolo snapped, brows furrowing. He looked incredulously at the boy. "The Hell put that in your head?"  
"...Bulma..."  
Piccolo snorted, crossing his arms, shoulders hunching. "So," Gohan started, drawing out the word like an artist pulling paint across a canvas. "You like girls?"  
"I don't know!" The Namekian flushed furiously, twirling around to face out across the swirling expanse of sky, ignoring the far-below earth. His cape fanned out behind him as it was caught by the atmospheric winds. "I don't like anyone, Kid. I like sitting quietly by the waterfall, and I like fighting. Not _people_."  
He heard Gohan's skeptical thoughts. "It's never come up before," he muttered, ears burning.  
"Bulma also asked if you were actually a guy," Piccolo blanched, making a strangled noise of objection. "But I've seen you pee so that was one I could clear up by myself."  
He drew a hand over his face slowly, yanking at the skin as he did so, trying to figure out some way to save himself from the situation. This was ridiculous. Preposterous. Getting out of hand. And it hadn't even started yet, he realized, something akin to panic rising in his throat. He looked down as Gohan tugged on his cape.  
"What?"  
"Are you mad at me?"  
Sigh. "Of course not," it was the situation, not the boy. Gohan wasn't convinced, and Piccolo uncrossed his arms, ruffling the preteen's overly long black hair.  
"I'm not exactly thrilled that you suckered me into socializing. But no, I'm not angry with you."  
The boy seemed content at that.  
"So...if you had to be stuck in a room with someone for two hours and you _didn't _know how to utilize ki, or fight, what would you want them to be like?"  
"Not you," Piccolo shot back, a nearly nonexistent lilt in his vocal pattern signifying that he was teasing.  
"I'm being serious!" Gohan crossed his arms and stared up at him, face so indignant that it was _almost _cute. Piccolo rolled his eyes.  
"How about we start with quiet?" he suggested, inwardly flinching at the idea of being yelled at by Chichi for two hours... Even ten minutes with that harpy shrieking at him would be torture.  
"And a girl?"  
"_Why not_?" It wasn't as if he had anything to lose, right?  
Just his pride, dignity, and hearing.

Chichi stared at the woman in front of her, blinking stupidly back at her. Her own reflection. Cursing quietly at the shadows under her eyes and on her cheeks, she tore angrily at the blouse that hung limply off her shoulders. It had once hugged her curves in a most flirtatious manner... How was she supposed to go out on a date tonight looking like... The woman sighed, running a hand through her bangs. She just looked unhealthy. Chichi shook her head, shrugging the black blouse off of her shoulders.  
"At least," she muttered, dropping the offending garment to the floor, "I don't have to worry about shedding those last few pounds of baby-weight... God, even my breasts have shrunk..." Chichi sighed in defeat even as she tried to arrange her still-round but tiny attributes in a way to make them look more appealing. "_Please_?" Begging with the Girls deemed fruitless, and she abandoned it after a moment. "I, am going on a 'see-food' diet," the woman decided, taking one last look at her reflection, lamenting on the lost abdominals, or even biceps for that matter... "And, I am going to run, and do push-ups, and crunches... Oh who am I kidding? I don't have time to do anything." A high-pitched wail cut through her thoughts. "I'm coming..." He was probably hungry. Again. Tugging a zip-up sweat jacket on, she made her way over to Goten's crib, where the blubbering baby bawled unhappily up at her. His chubby little cheeks, pink with whatever emotions were running around in that chunky head of his, dimpled in a smile as she leaned over him. He forgot his tears as Mommy lifted him up out of the crib, fingers reaching for her bosom. "Hold on, hold on," Chichi muttered, adjusting the baby into one arm as she unhooked the front clasp on her bra. Goten burbled happily and latched on. Chichi grunted, but her face softened as she looked down at the little baby. "Oof, Baby you're heavy... Ooh, I can do squats!_ Yeah, Mommy can do exercise with Goten. What do you think?" _Goten ignored her, far too interested in filling his insatiable belly. _"Let's go see what Mommy has to wear, huh? Mommy's got a hot date tonight. I have to look pretty. Yeah_."  
Chichi had long since learned to multitask, and was shuffling through her limited closest, baby in one arm. "Aw, I haven't worn this in years... No." She passed up a long gown, "Too dressy. Next! Oh God what was I thinking buying that? Nope. Oh, oh no." She paused, pulling a simple purple blouse off of the rack. "Okay, there we go..." Absorbed in her thoughts, she failed to pay attention when exiting the closet.  
"Gohan sent me up here to -" Chichi screeched and dropped the blouse, nearly losing her grip on Goten, who, unsurprisingly, continued suckling. Piccolo made a noise that was stuck somewhere between a yell and a pained grunt. She stared at him, eyes wide. Piccolo's face blushed a violent purple, and he spun around, spine rigid. The unhealthy violet spread to his ears. It took her moment to fully realize just how exposed she was; three-month old baby hanging off of one tit, and an oversized sweat jacket barely covering the other breast.  
Oh good Lord, Piccolo had just seen her boobs. Oh God. Heat rushed to her face and she scrambled to cover herself up. "I apologize," Piccolo's gruff voiced sounded strained. "Should've knocked."  
**"Damn right you should have knocked!"** Chichi hissed, detaching Goten, whom was not done with his meal and protested loudly. "The Hell are you doing up here?!"  
"It's seven o'clock. I am supposed to pick you up." His back was still turned, shoulders stiff. A vein stood out on his neck. "You should have closed the door. Or better yet, had a _shirt _on." Her eyes narrowed at the emphasis placed on the word 'shirt.' Oh, so he wanted to turn this on her, did he? A small part of her brain argued that he had a point, but it was overruled most viciously. Forgetting the bra, the irate little woman zipped her jacket, marching right over to the Namek. She grabbed him by the shoulder - or tried to - and spun him around, pinning him against the wall.  
**"Go. Down. Stairs**." Chichi thrust Goten into his arms, snarling in a stacatto "give him to Gohan and tell him to feed him. And change your _damn _clothes."  
"_You _gave these to me."  
_"**AND NOW I AM TELLING YOU TO CHANGE!"**_  
Goten started to cry and, exasperated, Chichi shoved the Namekian roughly out if the room, slamming the door on his rear. She heard him swear, but take the baby down to the kitchen. Thoroughly finished, she slumped against the door, burying her face in her hands. A moment later, she ran a hand through her bangs, black fringe falling back down in front of her face. Her eyes fell on the forgotten blouse.

It only took Gohan a moment to calm Goten, although to Piccolo's sensitive ears, even that short amount of time had been horrendous to endure. Why did babies have to be this loud? For the love of all things good in this world...

"Um, Piccolo... What happened?" Gohan had stuck a bottle of previously prepared milk in his brother's mouth, and was now staring curiously the Namek. Piccolo crossed his arms over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You're mother is insane."

"That does _not _answer my question."

"You're impossible."

"Just answer the question!"

Piccolo opened one eye just long enough to glare down at the children. Gohan merely cocked an eyebrow whilst Goten remained oblivious, sucking happily at the bottle.

"She was..._indecent_." He tread lightly upon the final word in his statement, attempting to gloss over the embarrasment. Play it down. It wasn't that big of a deal, afterall. Just his best friend's mother's...The image jumped back into his working memory, the rather vivid visual bombarding him. No. Bad. Shoo...

Thankfully, Gohan's explosive laughter jarred his senses, jerking him back to reality. "What?" He snapped, opening both eyes.

"Th-that's - haha, that's it?" His ears pinned as much as possible as the prepubecsent boy continued to guffaw in a most obnoxious manner.

"_Shuttup_." The phrase was ground out from behind tightly gritted fangs, escaping his mouth as one snarled world.

"It's not like you've never seen a boob before! Remeber that one time at Kame House?" If the boy laughed one more time, he was going to punch him through a wall. Or maybe the floor. "S-s-serious-ly," Gohan was trying to contain his giggles, but wasn't very successful.

"This. Is. _Different_."

Gohan opened his mouth to reply, but a feminine voice from the hall cut him off.

"Get your green ass over here. We're going to be late."

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**Okay :) Hope you enjoyed. More boob to come! Annnd that blind date is going to occur next chapter. I really need to stop promising more than I can dish 're was a little bonding XD Piccolo saw her boobs, that counts as bonding, right? So anyway, I have a big birthday coming up. To celebrate, I might publish my slightly-saucey-turning-into-a-makeout-scene one-shot. Probably not connected to Match in anyway more than the fact it'll be Chiccolo :)**

**Happy Birthday to Meeeee! **

**Review and all that.**


	7. Keep Your Drink, Just Give Me The Money

**Here she is! Sorry about the wait!**

**KEEP YOUR DRINK JUST GIVE ME THE MONEY (U + Ur Hand - P!nk)**

**Warning - OC's present. They are not important. And won't be staying for long. Forgive me for giving them silly names. Except the bartender. She has a people name. One that I think is very pretty. But anyway, on the very unimportant OC's... Their names are food related. But let's face it, half of Dragon Ball's cast is named after food. So they're named after food. I just didn't feel like searching for lesser known foods. That is all. Enjoy.**

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Piccolo actually had to force his eyes up, sucking in a deep gulp of oxygen in an attempt to diffuse the blush he felt crawling up his neck and cheeks. She was doing this to spite him, wasn't she? Hands on hips, fingers crinkling the beige fabric of her knee-length skirt, plum blouse puckering at the one place he absolutely did not want attention being drawn to after his little...adventure.

"Couldn't believe this still fit," Chichi was glaring at him. He couldn't tell if the pink on her cheeks was an angry flush or makeup. He mentally kicked himself, desperately wanting to mediate and clear his mind of the image of her...taking care of Goten. The image of her pale face, paler with shock, her wide eyes and - Goddammit. "Time to go, don't ya think? It's 7:30."

Gohan tittered behind him. He turned to glare at the boy, but Gohan shoved him roughly towards the door.

"You're supposed to be there at 8:30, and it takes forty-five minutes to get to the city. Go get 'em Tiger."

Throwing the boy a look that would literally freeze Hell over, Piccolo stalked towards the door.

"Have fun!"

He muttered an incredibly rude insult under his breath and pushed through the doorway, stepping out into the night.

"You're supposed to hold the door for a lady, Jerk."

Piccolo ignored her, fumbling around in the pocket of his jeans. "And I told you to change, you look like an idiot with those jeans. They're three inches too short in the least."

"Would you shut up?"

"Zap-zap some slacks that fit and a button down shirt and I might even be _nice_." The sheer amount of will power it took to restrain himself from strangling her was impressive in itself. The fact he possessed such self control was even more impressive. Honestly, what had gotten into her?

"Fine," he spat, tossing a capsule down to the ground. Chichi leapt back just as an SUV decapsulized itself between them. In the same moment, he materialized the suggested clothing on his body. His previous outfit - the famous Postboy shirt and jeans, minus that Godawful baseball cap - landed in a neatly folded stack at his feet. "Happy?"

Chichi peered around the windshield. She looked shaken. Good.

"Much better," she sniffed, but he could read the forced nonchalance on her face. He grunted, opening the driver's side door and crouching to get in. He didn't even look at her as she clambered in beside him.

"Seat belt," he muttered.

He heard it click, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine protested, but started up. It was an older model. He had no use for anything newer. Within a few minutes, they were on their way to face whatever it was Bulma and Gohan had concocted for them.

"This isn't the type of car I would picture you in," Chichi said lightly after a long and rather awkward silence. He glanced at her, but did not respond. "Figured you be in some old muscle car."

Piccolo smirked.

"Not a lot of legroom," he explained, flicking the CD player. The low hum of music drifted out of the speakers, casually filling the space between them.

"Ah."

"I am sorry," Piccolo said quietly, taking his eyes off the road for a moment as he glanced at her stiff form in the passenger's seat. "About earlier."

"It's fine." Her tone implied otherwise, but some of the tension left her shoulders. Piccolo carefully navigated the winding country roads, eyeing the bordering tree line for for deer and dinosaurs. The glow of the city was visible in the distance, distorting the sky above and covering the starlight with its artificial luminescence. "You like rock music?" It was painfully obvious that she was uncomfortable, trying feebly to make conversation.

"Yeah," he replied. "You?"

"Uh," Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her adjust her ponytail, tugging at the midnight tresses falling around her shoulders. "Yes, it's...alright."

"I don't want to do this either, just so you know."

She laughed then, and he smirked. The uncomfortable air, like the morning mist, left the space between them, dissipating.

"Some kid, huh?" Without looking, he knew she was smiling.

"Kid's a brat," he replied easily, the smirk shifting quietly into a small smile. "a damn good brat, but a brat all the same."

"Piccolo?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks."

"For what?" They were pulling into the city, lights and horns flashing and blaring across their eyes and ears.

"I don't know, for everything." Piccolo said nothing. What was he supposed to say? 'Everything' was rather vague, after all.

Navigating the city streets required his full attention, making his silence seem less strange. He would have preferred to go elsewhere for this stupidity, but Bulma had arranged everything. Gohan had just come up with the idea. Making a mental note to pound the boy into the dirt - or at least try - during their next sparring session, Piccolo searched for a place to pull over.

"This _isn't_ a parking spot!" Chichi pointed out the window at a sign. He rolled his eyes, ignoring her and putting the car in park. "**_Piccolo_**!"

"Just get out of the car," he muttered, "I'm not leaving 'er here."

"Well what are you going to -"

As soon as Chichi was clear of the vehicle, he capsulized it, sticking the pod in his pocket of his dark slacks. "Oh, yeah I guess that works."

Piccolo snorted, then looked around. The city noises were annoying, but not intolerable.

"So, we're meeting these people...where, again?"

Chichi caught his arm, pulling him down towards the street corner. He grunted, but followed complacently behind her. She smiled over her shoulder at him, he stared back at her, raising an eyebrow, but she noted the slight upwards crinkle of skin around his mouth.

"The bar is on the corner Clark and Kent streets." She giggled, "That's cute."

"What is?"

"Clark Kent? You know, Superman."

He stared blankly at her. Bemused, Chichi reminded herself that the man had very little knowledge of pop culture. "Never mind, it's just a cute coincidence."

They were currently on Hero's Avenue, but a quick question to a friendly stranger pointed the odd couple in the right direction. "Here we go!" They stood in front of a bar, titled "The Rice Cooker." Chichi took one one look at the name of the place and burst out laughing. Piccolo groaned behind her.

"It even has the same _logo_," he complained, gesturing at the pink kitten pattern bordering the sign. Chichi tried to control herself, but the utter ridiculousness of the situation had completely consumed her. She was doubled over, holding her sides. It was a wonder how she remained standing!

"Oh, Bulma, - _heeheehee_ - that's just, oh, aha, that's just mean!"

"Let's just get this over with."

She allowed him to push her through the tinted glass doors, still woozy from laughter. It occurred to her that she would not have been able to stop him.

The inside of the bar was well lit, maybe a bit higher class than the average booze-and-burger joint. Chichi looked around appraisingly, approving of Bulma's choice in eateries. Casual, but classy.

"Do we know who we're looking -"

Chichi turned around to better hear Piccolo's quiet voice over the television and chatter, but she didn't need to answer. A young girl - Was she even twenty-two? Chichi thought, brows shooting up her forehead - came bounding over to them.

"You must be Piccolo," she said, peering around Chichi. "You really are green."

Chichi couldn't quite wrap her mind around why the girl's phrasing irked her, but it had.

"Well, he's an alien." Her hands found themselves on her hips, feet planted protectively shoulder width apart. The girl raised an eyebrow, giving her an odd look, before grinning honestly and offering Piccolo her hand.

"And here I was thinking you had dyed punk hair or something. Green's my favorite color. Oh, my name's Miso."

"Uh," Chichi glanced at Piccolo, whose expression was comically stuck somewhere between hidden confusion and masked terror. She relaxed slightly as he took the girl's hand. "Hello."

"Wow, you're voice is so deep. It's like," Miso blushed, and Chichi had the distinct impression that the girl had never been in a relationship. Or even on a date. "Um, want to get a beer?"

"Uh," he glanced at Chichi, who smiled at him and nodded.

"I'm not your mother. Play nice with the other kids."

"Shut up," he snapped, even as the spunky girl dragged him bodily across the building towards the bar.

"A-and th-that would-would um m-m-m-make you-u Miss S-Son ah, Chi-Chichi," Chichi's head swiveled around to see her date, a slight twig of a man, with frizzy brown hair and glasses that made his already large hazel eyes appear to bug out of his head. "Pr-Professor Temp Ura. P-please, er, call me U-Ura." He wasn't sweating, so it wasn't nerves. The man simply had a stutter. She wasn't quite sure...no, get to know the guy before passing judgement.

"Drinks?" She asked, nodding towards the bar, where poor Piccolo sat hunched over a bottle of Guinness, and by the look of it, having his ears talked off by the nervous Miso. Ura nodded, hurrying ahead of her and pulling out a stool. How chivalrous, she thought, it had been a long time since someone had behaved in such a manner.

"What can I get you?" The bartender was a young woman, somewhere in her late twenties, with cropped blonde hair and a nose ring. Chichi asked for a virgin daiquiri and Ura had a Raging Bitch ale.

They made small talk, swapping histories. Chichi kept the subject of Goku limited, reluctant to delve too deeply.

"Y-You um, competed in th-the Te-ten-Tenkaiichi B-b-Budokai, er, twelve years ago, yes? When, um, the green fellow, Ma Junior - "

" - Piccolo -"

"What? Er," Ura adjusted his thick spectacles. "Um, yes, ah, Pi-Piccolo tried to t-take over the w-world, yes?"

"Mm," Chichi took a sip of her drink, enjoying the tangy sweetness of the beverage. "Yes, I lost in the semi finals against my fiancé."

"You m-married the man who d-de-def-defeated er, ah, Junior?" A cursory scan of his face revealed shock and intimidation. Obviously, this poor specimen of the human race was shocked that a woman used to muscles and strength would even glance at a string bean like Professor Temp Ura.

"Yes," Chichi replied quietly, stirring her drink. "He died a year ago."

"Oh," Ura set his beer down, "I am tr-truly sorry."

"Thanks," Chichi fiddled with her ponytail, "you, you said you were a professor? Like at a university?"

"Ah, y-yes," the mood lighted considerably, and she listened as Ura explained his life his job, only half interested. He was divorced, had never had kids, and was two years older than her. He was also rather dull. And a pacifist. Hm. Not someone with whom she wanted to spend an evening dancing. While quietly contemplating the proper protocol for turning down a second date she wondered how Piccolo was faring.

It was quite evident to the Namek that this girl was talking for the sake of noise, tittering neverously and downing a third beer.

"Doesn't alcohol impair judgment?" he interrupted her in the middle of some story about her 'precious pookiekinz' bull dog. Miso froze, staring at him before nodding, slowly putting her bottle of Shock Top back down on the bar. "This is your third. In an hour."

"I should probably slow down," she blushed, futzing with her necklace. "Thanks."

"Sure."

"You don't drink much?"

"Designated driver. So this," he nodded to the almost empty bottle, "is all I'm having. Although, she" Piccolo gestured to Chichi, "has an unweaned infant. So she shouldn't drinking period."

"Uh, she your friend?"

"Something like that." He shrugged, took a sip of his beer and looked around the room for something to talk about. This was agonizing. His sharp eyes fell upon a television monitor, brows knitting together as he zeroed in on the news story.

"The Hell is that?"

"Huh?" Miso swiveled the bar stool, twisting at the hip to see what he was talking about, "oh, that," she flicked a stripe of dirty-blonde hair out of her eyes. "They're unveiling a statue for our Hero, Hercule Satan." Piccolo had to force a sudden surge of power down and let go of his beer to avoid embedding soon-to-be shattered glass in his palm. The bottle clanked slightly, swirling on its butt before settling. "Um, everything okay?"

"Just. Peachy." Piccolo clenched his fists and glanced over to Chichi, several seats down from them. She hadn't seen the story yet. Good. The last thing he wanted was to hold the lunatic mother back from tearing the television right off the wall and hurling it into a crowd of innocent bystanders. He didn't trust her to have left the frying pan at home, either.

"Uh, do you have something against Mister Sat - Wait!" She jumped out of her stool suddenly, pointing at him, "You were there! At the Cell Games! I knew you looked familiar." Thoroughly convinced at this point that the girl was either sheltered or stupid, he tried to gesture for silence. If she said the dreaded words, all Hell would break loose. "Yeah, and you got your ass handed to you by the little blue ones! Wait, that means you know the Delivery Boy!"

He saw Chichi's posture go rigid, and he stood, hoping to prevent the woman from doing anything rash. The last thing Gohan needed was a mother in prison for assault.

"What did you say?" Chichi, too, was standing, glaring in his direction. Hopefully at Miso, not at him.

_"Chichi_," he growled, aware the almost everyone in the bar was staring at them. An eerie hush, broken only by coughs, the rustling of fabric, and the low hum of

the television, had settled in the atmosphere.

"Don't you dare refer to my son as the 'Delivery Boy.'" Piccolo couldn't help but envy that snarl attempting to pass itself off as a human voice.

Miso and Ura looked terrified.

"_Chichi_."

"My son is a Hero. _Not. Some. Damn. **DELIVERY BOY**_." She wasn't screaming. It was actually intimidating how threatening she could be without screaming, without pulling out the frying pan.

"Hey lady," a burly man, bearded with a cigar butt hanging out of the side of his mouth, called out rudely, "why don't you calm down and sit your ass back on that bar stool? Have a damn drink," Piccolo groaned inwardly, not this, not tonight. "Hercule Satan's on the TV. If your son really is the Delivery Boy, then Mister Satan is the reason your brat - and the whole damn planet - didn't get blown to smithereens by that overgrown grasshopper freak!" The man turned to his buddies, "broads these days? Am I right?"

Oh no.

Oh no, no.

Not like this.

It happened far more quickly than the Namek could have imagined. Chichi snapped. Before he had time to grab her by the arm and calm her down, Chichi had decked the bearded man. How she had moved so quickly, he didn't know. Oh boy. Diving into the fray, ignoring the shocked noises of those watching the ludicrous spectacle, Piccolo looped an arm around Chichi's waist, attempting to pull her away from the floored giant. Her bony fist connected painfully with his nose, a loud crack ensuing. He knew it was his nose, and not her fist. Still, he almost hoped it was her hand, even as violet blood soaked his chest and her shoulder. Piccolo grunted as her elbow slammed into his ribcage, and dropped her when her heel connected with his crotch. She squirmed out of his grip and punched the instigator square in the eye.

"_**Dammit Chichi**_!" Piccolo hissed, making a grab at her again. He caught her hip, twisting her around and hauling her bodily back, falling on his ass, the woman ending up on his lap, knees in his gut. Her flailing limbs, connecting continuously with his chest, ceased after a few painful moments, "Are we done?"

"Yes," she seethed, mad eyes glinting through her bedraggled bangs. Her muscles were still tense.

"Home?"

"Yes. I'll get my purse."

Cautiously, he let go of her, and Chichi stood up, brushed herself off, and stalked back to the bar counter, and snatched her bag from its surface. He followed suit, nodding to the frazzled Miso and bamboozled Ura.

"How much?" Piccolo asked the bartender, digging in his pocket for his wallet. "Her too."

The punky woman laughed, and called out a number at him. He pulled out some crumpled bills and tossed them down on the counter. She flashed him a grin and an overly friendly wink.

"You two come back anytime you want."

He stared incredulously at the young bartender, but nodded. She pulled out a pen, "here," and scribbled on a scrap of paper. "Piccolo, right? Name's Beth." He took the paper from her, eyes narrowed imperceptibly in well masked confusion.

"Thanks..."

Slipping the paper into his pocket, Piccolo gestured to Chichi, who stomped over to him, dark eyes flicking from side to side. He suppressed a shudder at the murderous look on her face. "Chichi -"

She held a hand up for silence, and he snapped his jaw shut. Chichi stormed out of the bar, slamming the door behind her. Piccolo cast one last glance in the burly man's direction; he was sitting up, slightly delirious, beard matted with blood. He spat out a tooth. The man's buddies were staring at Piccolo with an uncomfortable mix of terror and shock on their pink faces.

"Alright ya slobs! Buy the man a whiskey and get back to drinking!" Beth hollered from the bar, displaying a bottle of Jack. She winked again at Piccolo as he left, a slight blush discoloring his complexion.

Exiting the bar, he looked around for Chichi. She was standing by the street sign, leaning against the pole. A street light caught her in its yellowy glow, illuminating the arms crossed under her breasts, the clenched shut jaw, trembling slightly. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing. He sighed, blowing out a puff of air and jamming his hands into his pockets.

"Are you alright?" Piccolo asked quietly as he approached her, shadow morphing in shape and size as he ducked in and out of street lamps. He knew the answer before she replied.

"I'm insane."

"Insanity isn't an emotion," he stood in front of her, blocking the light and casting her face in shadow. "It's a state of being."

She looked like she was going to cry, face downcast, shoulders rolling forward.

He hated it when people cried. What was he supposed to do?

"_Just take me home,_" she whispered, avoiding his gaze. Piccolo knew that social protocol demanded that he do something. He simply had no idea what that 'something' might be, nor what was appropriate in this situation. He tossed the car capsule down in the street. When the smoke cleared, he opened the passenger side door for her. She got in without a word.

It wasn't until after they had cleared the city limits that she spoke.

"You think I'm crazy."

"No news there."

"Don't you dare tell me I overreacted." Chichi's fists closed around the fabric of her skirt, crinkling the beige material. She glared at her knees, trying to keep angry tears at bay.

"I won't."

She looked up sharply, surprise etched on her face.

He was staring straight ahead, to the road.

"You...won't?" But he had every right to say so, she had overreacted. Blown her top. Lost control. "But -"

"Don't." She closed her mouth. "I am not going to tell you that you overreacted. I almost blew the place up with a ki influx. If I had your son's temper, I'd have been the only one left alive on the block."

"If you had my temper, the whole city would be nothing more than an outdated dot on a map." She couldn't keep the emotion out of her voice. "Piccolo?"

"Yeah?"

Chichi bit her lip, turning her head to look out at the dark countryside flashing by. She caught sight of her reflection in the window; dark hair in a messy ponytail, shadowy face tired and dejected.

"Why didn't he come back?"

He did not answer for a long time.

"I don't know."

"Why did that oaf take the credit? Why did you all let him?"

"Gohan." Piccolo replied, voice barely above a whisper. "Kid didn't need the fame, the attention. He needed to heal, which is what he has been doing." She looked away from the window and back at Piccolo. "You should do the same."

* * *

**Sorry about the long wait! My life has gotten rather hectic of late, between this giant research paper and training for PATH International Certification, not to mention regular old school! **

**Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and will be reading. :) I make no promises as to when chapter 8 will be out... But it's all planned out and waiting! :)**

**Love**

**~ShirePower/Wulfeh**


	8. Sweet Charade

**"Hate this Place" - GooGoo Dolls**

**This is disgustingly short. I am so sorry guys! I can honestly say that I have been beyond busy with my school work! I know that no one wants to hear that, but it's true! The next chapter will be longer, and not totally filler.**

**Thank you once again to everyone who has been reading!**

**And welcome if you're new!**

* * *

Chichi opened the door quietly, finding the lights in the hall on. From the other room, the flickering of a television, volume low, caught her attention. She frowned, but moved aside to let Piccolo in as well. Gohan should have been in bed at least an hour ago. She supposed that the boy may have had trouble with Goten. It also occurred to her that he may have been pushing the limits seeing as he had been left alone.

"He's asleep," Piccolo said softly, closing the door behind him. It clicked shut. The noise was small enough; the boys most likely wouldn't have heard it. "Over there." Chichi made her way over to the living room, following Piccolo's nod. The sight that met her eyes drew a gasp to her lips, and she covered to her mouth to stifle the sound. "What -?" Piccolo's voice trailed off as he came up behind her. "Oh."

Gohan was curled around his baby brother, arms protecting him from the edge of the couch. A forgotten bottle, half full, was wedged between Goten and Gohan. The baby was snuggled up to the older boy, tiny fingers grasping at Gohan's shirt. Both were fast asleep.

Piccolo and Chichi said nothing for a long, beautiful moment, simply gazing down at the two brothers. Piccolo glanced at Chichi, noting the shimmer of unshed tears swimming in her dark eyes. He noted again how much they looked like Gohan's. Piccolo's antennae twitched, and he turned his gaze back on the slumbering boys.

"We should put them in their proper beds," she whispered, and he knew that she wasn't looking at him. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Gohan, and knew she was doing the same. His little Gohan. He didn't want to move the boy, but Goten would wake soon enough anyway and spoil the moment, either hungry or in need of a diaper change.

"I'll take Gohan," Piccolo murmured, moving silently around the couch. He knelt in front of the the two boys.

"Wait," he paused, turning his gaze onto Chichi, "I want a picture, just wait a minute." He nodded, and she shuffled off into another part of the house, tiptoeing back moments later with a camera. He shifted away from the couch, rocking back on his heels. Chichi came and stood next to him, stooping to take the picture. Piccolo watched her with bemusement, but said nothing. No photograph could capture the scene before them accurately, but it was worth a shot, he supposed. "Okay," Chichi said quietly, setting the camera down on the coffee table as if it were made of glass. "I don't want to wake them..." Piccolo didn't fancy the idea of waking Goten either, remembering the volume of the infant's earlier wails. Not in the slightest. He watched as Chichi eased the bottle out from its sandwiched position between the boys, ready to help if needed. He opened his mouth, but said nothing, and closed it. She was having trouble with Gohan. Piccolo rolled forward, touching one knee to the floor and reached out to help her detangle the baby from Gohan's secure hold. Even in his base form, the half Saiyan had a mighty grip. It was like wrestling with steel, only harder. The moment Goten's warmth was removed, Gohan's face scrunched, and he stirred. Before he woke completely, Piccolo slipped his arms under the boy and scooped him to his chest, cradling him tenderly. Piccolo caught Chichi looking at him with a smile on her face. He was tempted to glare at her, but knew it was pointless. It had been almost three and a half years since she had feared him. Instead, he ignored her existence and turned his attention to the child in his arms. He adjusted his hold on the boy, nodded to Chichi, and whisked the child off to his bedroom, covering the ground easily with his long strides. Chichi was behind him, moving slowly as she hummed to Goten. It wasn't an unpleasant sound, he decided, much better than that awful whistling of which Gohan was so fond. Piccolo glanced over his shoulder at her, pausing at the door to Gohan's bedroom. He didn't think she noticed; smiling down at the baby, swaying slightly from side to side. Snatches of words drifted out of the hummed melody, but he ducked inside of Gohan's room before she noticed. She passed by, oblivious.

Piccolo sat down on Gohan's bed, sticking close to the edge. He pulled the covers back and settled his Kid down amongst his pillows. The boy made a noise of protest before snuggling into his sheets. He was less than half awake.

"Piccolo?" Gohan mumbled, "that you?"

Piccolo nodded, reaching out a hand and ruffling the Kid's hair. "Yeah, Kid," Piccolo said softly, "goodnight." He tucked a blanket around the boy's shoulders.

"See you in the morning?"

"Sure, Kid." When he was sure the boy was asleep once again, Piccolo stood, even as a creak in the floor alerted him to Chichi's presence. He turned, catching sight of her silhouette against the light from the hall.

"You're so good with him."

He snorted at her words, nonsense that they were, and headed towards the door, stooping just enough to avoid clonking his head against the frame. "I mean it," she said quietly. "You're not the ass you like to pretend to be. At least not all the time." Chichi offered him a small smile, walking with him back to the kitchen. He glanced down at her, unsure of how to continue the conversation, nor even if he wanted to add to it.

"Well," he started, but paused, tugging on the cuffs of his sleeves. "I should probably go."

"Hold on," she grabbed his hand, and he looked down at her again.

"Why?"

"Well," Chichi flushed, feeling self-conscious as the events from "The Rice Cooker" danced in front of her eyes like some half-forgotten dream, "You've got blood, all over your face." He grunted, it was a question, she decided, analyzing his expression for a moment. "Just let me clean it up for you."

"You don't need to do that," Chichi frowned, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, I want to, so sit your green ass down," she pointed imperiously at her kitchen table. Piccolo, much to her chagrin, shook his head and walked toward the door.

"_**Piccolo Junior**__._"

It was a snarled hiss.

He froze, not five steps from her. "Sit. Down. Now." He obeyed, and her lips curled up at the corners, "was that really so hard?" Piccolo grunted again; he looked about as thrilled as a wet kitten. Chichi caught his blank stare, cocking an eyebrow to ensure he didn't flee whilst she gathered medical supplies. He looked away first. Satisfied, the woman bustled about her kitchen, soaking a clean washcloth in cold water and moving back to her patient. Sitting, he was a little shorter than her. Barely. Chichi pressed the washcloth to his slightly swollen face. He remained still. A living statue.

"I really am sorry," she said, keeping her voice in a clipped, matter of fact tone. "But you should have known better than to get between me and some bastard who insults my baby." Under the washcloth, she felt his lips tug upwards in a smirk.

"I've had worse. And you're not supposed to be apologizing."

Chichi paused, pulling the cloth away from his face, meeting his dark eyes.

"I – I," she didn't know what to say in response to that, so she changed tactics, gazing shifting from his intense stare to his chest. "This shirt is ruined."

"Doesn't matter."

"Do you want me to wash it?"

"I want you to go sleep."

She swatted him lightly on the shoulder, walking away from him to toss the bloodied washcloth in the sink. When she turned around again, he was gone, the door clicking shut right behind him. Chichi bit her lip, leaning against the countertop and combing a hand through her hair, ebony locks falling free of the ribbon. She thought back to their conversation in the car, wondering how she was supposed to follow his advice.

"_What?!"_Gohan cried, making a snatch at the piece of paper. "You got a girl's number? Have you called her yet? Is she cute?" Piccolo made no attempt to stop the boy from getting a hold on the scrap of paper, although Gohan still had to reach for it across the warrior's chest. "_**Piccolo**_!"

"No, I have not called her yet," he muttered, tugging at the collar of the ruined button down still clinging to his person. "I didn't even look at the paper until just now."

"Come on, Piccolo!" Gohan rolled his eyes, flopping down on the grass beside the Namek. They were on the bank of Piccolo's waterfall, the tumultuous cascade crashing down into the waiting pool with a dull roar that faded into the background of their senses. "If a girl gives you her number you call her!"

"How am I _supposed_ to know _that_?" Piccolo snapped, adjusting his seat and glaring at his companion. "I have no knowledge of these customs beyond what _you_ have told me!"

Gohan held the paper scrap up over his head to admire it once again. The sunlight streaming in from behind the paper illuminated the numbers and the name "Beth"

"Is she cute?" he asked again. Piccolo growled loudly. "I'm just asking!"

"I don't know!"

"How do you _not_ know?!" Gohan exclaimed, exasperated. _Honestly_!

"What constitutes as 'cute?'" Gohan made a small noise, sitting up and supporting himself on his hands. He looked quizzically at Piccolo.

"That depends on the person. What do you think is cute?"

Piccolo glared at him, a violet flush shading his cheeks. He shrugged. "Well," Gohan crawled a little closer to his friend and handed him the phone number. "Perfect world, you can be with anyone you want. Describe them?" It was worth a shot.

"Myself."

"Big, mean, and green? Well that might be tough since there aren't any female Namekians."

Piccolo took a swipe at him, and Gohan decided not to dodge.

"Ow." The blow collided with his head, but Piccolo did not follow through.

"That did _not_ hurt."

"It might have." He reached up and grabbed the four-fingered hand resting atop his raven haired head.

"But it didn't."

Gohan smiled ruefully at the Namek. Piccolo stared at him, and slowly curled his fingers in the boy's hair, rocking his head back and forth slowly.

"Are you going to call her?"

Piccolo pushed him backwards. Caught off guard, Gohan didn't stop his motion, and toppled over, yelping as he landed on his back. "That was not fair!" He pushed himself up onto his elbows. The preteen narrowed his eyes marginally and tried to appear threatening. The mask did not suit him; it collapsed the moment Piccolo's lips twitched. His stoic friend made a sound that might have been a chuckle, cocking his eyebrows. Gohan busted out laughing, shaking his head at the man. "You're too much, you know?"

"No."

The half Saiyan stood, brushing grass from his elbows; it left little criss-crossing indents in his flesh. He picked at a few stubborn blades before turning his attention back to the Namek.

"If you don't call her, I will."

"She is twice your age."

"So?" Gohan grinned cheekily, "I've hit a growth spurt! Mom said I've grown two inches in the last week and half alone."

"I don't see your point," Piccolo deadpanned, standing up as well. He glanced absentmindedly at the note in his hand. "You're still a little shrimp."

"I am not," Gohan argued, flexing his biceps in what Piccolo assumed was supposed to be a manly fashion. He shook his head. "Really? Nothing?" Gohan smirked devilishly and flared his ki. Piccolo had to brace himself against the onslaught to avoid being blown backwards. "How about now?" Piccolo rolled his eyes; Gohan had powered up to a full blown Super Saiyan. He struck a pose.

"Now you just look ridiculous."

"I do _not_." Gohan pouted, letting the transformation recede. The golden aura died down. "I think it's cool."

Piccolo couldn't help the expression that appeared on his face.

"It wasn't. Don't do that ever again."

"Never ever?" Gohan actually sounded – and looked, he realized, glancing down at the boy's open face – incredibly disappointed.

"Only if we're going to die, and you need to do something stupid to throw our opponent off."Piccolo picked at a pit of dried blood on the ruined button down. He really ought to change.

"That's annoyingly specific."

"What do you mean Piccolo got to pick his date?" Chichi put her seldom-free hand on her hip, yelling indignantly into the phone.

"_Well, apparently he's a lady killer and got the bartender's number,"_ Bulma replied, and Chichi had the distinct impression that the older woman was laughing at her. _"Gohan told me that he set them up for next Sunday, like an early dinner thing. Are you available around four?" _

"I don't know, let me check me calendar." Chichi didn't even bother to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "Hm, looks like I have an appointment with my baby's diaper right about then. After that, feeding time, a bath, another diaper – if he doesn't poop in the tub –"

"_Okay okay eew!"_

"You have a kid in diapers!"

"_Trunks conducts himself in a manner suiting his stature as a princeling."_

"He does not!"

"_Chichi, are we really arguing about this? Do you want me to set you up with the sexy intern or not?"_

"Ah," Chichi pursed her lips, "how sexy are we talking? Because if that stringy professor is any indication –"

"_He was a safe guy to get your feet wet!"_Bulma snapped.

"Because I go for 'safe.'"

"_Well this guy isn't. If I wasn't engaged to Vegeta…"_ The heiress's voice became laced with a lustful overtone. _"Well, I'd pin him to a wall and tear his clothes off with my teeth. Then I'd smother his naked body in strawberry ice cream and –"_ Chichi winced as a loud crash reverberated across the phone connection. Dimly, she could hear Vegeta screaming obscenities. Loud and clear, Bulma was laughing.

"Sunday around four sounds fine!" She yelled, slamming the phone down. She had an uncomfortable feeling that Bulma had purposely said those things to get Vegeta in a…_passionate_…mood.

And suddenly the words "he's a lady killer" popped into the forefront of her mind.

* * *

**Okay, so Chichi is kind of starting to have some...somethings, for Piccolo at least!**

**I promise, no more filler after this!**

**Sorry and thanks for reviewing!**

**Love you all so very much!**

**AND I WILL UPDATE_ NEVER GROW UP_ I PROMISE!**


	9. Legend on the Late Night Scene

**Welllll, I updated **_**Never Grow Up,**_** so that's my excuse for this chapter taking this amount of time. Sorry! But here you go…**

**Thank you to all of my lovely reviewers who are reading this. I really appreciate your feedback and support. ! I really do appreciate and read every single review. To my anonymous/non-logged in reviewers, thank you! I wish I could reply directly to you, but this is the best I can do :) You are all awesome, and please, please, please keep reviewing! I love hearing from all of you. It's great, and super encouraging! So anyway. Here's Chapter Nine; "Legend on the Late Night Scene" ("Natural Disaster") by The Plain White T's.**

"Nope." Gohan rolled over on the picnic blanket, staring up at his Namekian companion. "Wrong color."

He closed his eyes against the flash of light, opened them and said: "Who taught you how to dress? Again."

"You are being incredibly unhelpful," Piccolo snarled, zapping yet another outfit on his body. Gohan raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbows in the grass. Goten burbled from his spot on the blanket, not far from his brother. He pointed happily at Piccolo and made a wet noise not unlike a giggle.

"See, even Goten knows you look ridiculous. Red is _so_ not your color."

"I know that," Piccolo's voice escaped his throat as a guttural growl. "Purple is 'my color' and you have informed me _that I am not allowed to wear it_." Gohan flipped a page in the magazine, scanning the shiny surface for something fitting.

"Well, I'm not the one who landed a date with someone so far out of his league." He frowned, and turned the page. The sun glittering off the shiny surface of the magazine glared in his eyes.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Piccolo snapped, rounding on his young companion. "This whole thing was _your_ idea. And," he crossed his arms, glaring imperiously down at the boy, "you're the one that called this girl."

"Well," the boy seemed stumped, "I wasn't expecting to hear _that_ on the other line. With a voice like hers..."

"What?"

"It's just that..." Gohan pursed his lips, "she sounds super hot. And I was thinking that maybe you found a cute girl, like paying her way through college on tips from the bar, and suddenly caught up in your charismatic...well, your... Um..."

Piccolo drummed his fingers on his bicep, skin on his forehead crinkling as he raised his brows.

"My _what_, exactly?"

Gohan waved him off, harrumphing agitatedly and pulling up grass.

"I'm _thinking_."

"Ouch," Piccolo drawled sarcastically. He turned his head skyward, squinting at the sun and shading his eyes against its damaging rays. "For what time did you make the reservation?"

"Ah," Piccolo glanced at his young friend. "4:30."

"That's early."

"Yeah," Gohan agreed, and flipped to yet another new page in the magazine. "Here, try this," he held up a picture of a tall, somewhat muscled man in a grey v-neck and dark jeans.

Piccolo rolled his eyes, but complied, zapping the suggested articles onto his person, and tried to hide his annoyance as Gohan eyed him critically.

"That'll do!" the boy said cheerfully, sitting up and pulling the baby into his lap. He stood. "Now hold him? I need to check on Mom."

"Take him with -" But Gohan was already in the house, and Goten clinging to him like a limpet. "_You_." Piccolo inclined his head down to the baby, who cooed happily up at him. His eyes softened, and he adjusted his hold on the just-barely four-month old. "Yeah, yeah, not a word of this, got it?"

Goten, who could not understand the words, yawned, opening his toothless mouth wide, dark eyes pinching shut as the helium pitched noise squeaked out of him.

It was short enough to not bother his ears. Piccolo tentatively offered the child his index finger, and Goten gummed it heartily, suckling and, in general, getting saliva all over his hand.

Disgusting.

Goten, chubby little hands holding tightly to Piccolo's knuckles, stared up at the green man without the slightest inclination of fear. It felt good.

Slimy, and somewhat stinky, but good.

The warrior shook his head, and adjusted his hold on the tiny, fragile, infant, before walking back to the little cottage.

Gohan had set up the baby's playpen by the couch in the living room, filling it with toys and the like. Piccolo was not entirely sure what purpose the brightly-colored items served, other than to entertain the wide-eyed baby. He set Goten down gently so he was resting against a sturdy pillow for that exact purpose. The infant's balance and strength were improving daily, but he occasionally toppled over. Goten grabbed onto his retreating hand, gurgling. "Let _go_," Piccolo's free hand gently worked to pry the baby's fingers off of his thumb, to no avail, of course. The Namekian rolled his eyes in exasperation and reached for one of the child's many toys. He shook the object in front of the baby enticingly, and a moment later he let go, grabbing on to the rattle and banging it gleefully against the floor.

The warrior stood up quickly and wiped his hands on a towel draped over the playpen wall. Piccolo's ears twitched, hearing Gohan's bare feet slapping down the stairs, and the click-click-click of Chichi's heels behind him. He picked at the hem of his gray v-neck self-consciously, checking the belt that held the almost-black jeans at his waist. He wished he had a mirror, just to reassure himself that he did not look ridiculous.

The problem, he noted, was that he had no idea what looked good and what did not. He knew that Chichi would let him know if he looked...bad... But he was acutely aware that he did not want her to think he appeared silly or stupid or even that unfathomable human notion of being "unfashionable."

It was a confusing feeling.

He did not think he should have such feelings. _Especially_ in regards to Chichi._ Chichi. _She was someone he tolerated, he reminded himself, even as she came around the corner behind Gohan.

She wore kitten heeled shoes of a pinkish color, flesh-toned tights, a dark skirt, and a ruffled blouse that was the same hue as her shoes. With her cheekbones - still too prominent in his quiet opinion - a subtle tint of pink, eyes shadowed lightly, and full lips painted a deep, reddish color, Chichi looked healthy. Piccolo blinked, and reached for his capsule packet. Good. It was in his back pocket, exactly where it was needed. He didn't want to look at her hair, which did seem rather shiny this particular day.

Chichi smiled at him.

He nodded, catching the gesture out of his peripheral vision. He was still fiddling with his clothes, feeling decidedly naked, despite being no less covered than usual.

"You look nice," she said, and he noticed Gohan's eyes flash with an emotion he did not catch. He brushed it off, not picking up on any stray thoughts from his Kid's head. In response to her comment, he dipped his chin in her direction. "Maybe add a leather jacket?"

"What?" The Namek looked up, catching her eye for the first time.

She glanced Heavenward, and shook her head, dark locks bouncing on her shoulders with the movement.

"A _jacket_, Dumbass."

Gohan tittered, lifting Goten out of the playpen and sitting down on the couch. "Don't even think about using that," Chichi snapped, not even facing her son. The boy quickly stifled his giggles. Piccolo rolled his eyes, amused by how easily the boy could be cowed by the little woman. She waved her hand dismissively, gesturing to him again. "Seriously, a brown leather jacket. Can you do leather?"

"I…I can try," Piccolo muttered, glancing at Gohan, who looked disturbingly pleased with the situation. If he had not had a gurgling baby on his lap, the warrior may have blasted him simply to wipe the stupid expression from his face.

It had taken several attempts to satisfy Chichi's mental image of what he should be wearing, but at long last, they were driving. Piccolo had the radio turned down low. He was unsure if Chichi would be interested in conversation. The woman was fiddling with her hair. How pointless. He felt her eyes flickering onto him occasionally.

"Can't be worse than the first time," Piccolo said lightly.

Chichi laughed quietly, and reached for the volume.

"You're the one who should be nervous," she said pointedly, "a date with the hottie bartender."

His face heated considerably, cheeks purpling slightly.

He supposed that she did indeed have a point.

Piccolo wished desperately that Gohan would just allow them to fly. Of course, Chichi was part of the problem there. She claimed that flying gave her a headache and upset her stomach on top of reversing any attempt she made with her hair. Not for the first time, he was thankful he was not compromised by such useless attributes. Hair was only good for ruffling. And Chichi would rip his hand off if he tried. Not that he would attempt such a thing. With her.

"Um, Piccolo? Aren't we meeting them at the other end of the city?"

"Hm?" He'd made a left when he should have gone right. "Damn, yeah."

"If you go down that one-way street, you'll be able to go back to the main road," Chichi offered, pointing at the street in question. He noted with some interest that she had not screamed at him. Interesting. He followed her directions, and soon enough had the car headed in the right direction. Chichi started talking about something trivial, but he mostly tuned her out, looking for the restaurant where Gohan had made a reservation.

Piccolo was privately relieved that Gohan had enough sense to have chosen a middle-of-the-road restaurant. He had money, picking up odd jobs for Bulma paid surprisingly well, and he had managed to find some stashes of valuables belonging to his kin. He had no use for most of it, and even with Gohan's lessons, little knowledge of the workings of money. He had enough, he knew that, but still... There was no need to spend whatever he had frivolously. Especially since he was probably going to order a salad and lemonade. Maybe a beer if everyone else ordered one.

Piccolo parked his SUV on the curb outside of the restaurant, and killed the engine.

There was something he needed to ask Chichi before they went in there. He swallowed, more than a little of his pride sliding down his throat as well, and turned to her, even as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"How do you talk to women?"

When asked later, Chichi would be unable to recall how the food tasted. She had been far too interested in the man across the table from her.

Tall - although nowhere near as tall Piccolo - with mocha eyes and caramel hair, a chiseled face, and perfectly straight nose, this "intern" as Bulma had referred to him, was in all actuality a highly paid technician. As it turned out, Bulma referred to any and all new workers as interns, Udon explained with a laugh.

"Until you've worked there for a year she considers us all her slaves."

"I can see that," Chichi replied with a chuckle. From the man's left, Piccolo snorted. Udon glanced at the Namek with a hint of nervousness but seemed to shake it off. Her mostly silent companion was all-together too big for the booth, and looked ready to bolt. She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes and returned her attention to Udon.

"How do you know my boss, if I may ask?" he queried casually, "I've never seen you around Capsule Corp."

Chichi took a sip of water before answering.

"My late husband was a childhood friend of Bulma," she twirled a finger around the rim of the glass, eyes falling on the naked finger where her ring used to rest. It was locked up, safe and sound at home. "We got to know each other while I was planning my wedding." Her stomach clenched. Perfect. Just the turn-off she needed. He was dangerously attractive.

Udon hummed appreciatively, and Chichi glanced at the woman sitting next to her, hoping for a distraction of some sort.

Beth, completely unperturbed by Piccolo's lack of conversation, was listening to Chichi's story. She flicked the blonde fringe from her eyes and flashed Piccolo a brilliant grin. Much to her satisfaction, the bridge of her green date's nose turned purple. The young woman took a sip of her drink and grimaced.

"Well _that_ was mixed improperly," she chuckled, and set the glass down.

"What-?" Chichi blinked, almost dropping her lemonade, and Beth smiled, noting the lack of comprehension on the other woman's face.

"You're fine, Hon," the blonde beamed at her darker counterpart. "I just need to learn to lower my expectations when drinking anything mixed by anyone other than me." She winked.

"Or just get a beer," Udon suggested. Beth shrugged, and slid her denim jacket off of her shoulders. Her tank top showed off a modest number of intricate, finely detailed tattoos. She returned her attention to her silent date.

"Do I need to get you a fruity little drink before you talk to me?"

Piccolo nearly face planted into the table, she actually watched his muscles leap beneath the skin. Pleased, she continued, leaning back in the seat and winking suggestively.

"He's quiet," Chichi weakly attempted to save him, hiding amusement with painful obviousness, but Beth was having a little too much fun with the hapless Namekian. Just a wee-bit. Piccolo's entire face flushed a furious fuchsia, and he gaped openly at her, fangs clearly visible behind his lips.

"Naw, I think he needs a..." she looked over the drink menu, blue eyes scanning for something she deemed suitable."An extra-sweet appletini special to loosen those green lips a little."

"I am capable of speech without the influence of alcohol," Piccolo's face was still an enticing shade of purple. Beth grinned and offered him her cocktail. He shook his head.

"Well, prove it, Big Boy."

Piccolo's mouth opened, closed, opened again, and hung slack for an embarrassing amount of time, before he pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

Beth beamed and sipped her drink.

Piccolo, still blushing, picked up the food menu and hid behind it.

"Excuse me," Chichi said softly, tapping her on the shoulder. Beth scooted out of the booth and let Chichi by. The dark haired woman looped her arm through Piccolo's and dragged him bodily from the booth. "We'll be _right back_," the little dark haired woman pulled the quietly protesting Piccolo out to the door, but not before Beth noted the odd expression on her face.

Piccolo refused to look at her, staring directly over her head towards the street. Chichi tapped her foot on the pavement outside of the restaurant.

"Well?"

"Well _what_?" Piccolo snapped, looked irritably down at her. She rolled her eyes, fingers of her left hand drumming on her right bicep.

"Well, you asked me how to talk to women. And I told you to be polite, chivalrous, and to _actually talk_."

"There is nothing to talk about," he muttered, crossing his arms and huffing. "Speech is for sharing information, not spewing meaningless drivel."

"Oh for the love of -" Chichi waved a hand around, cocking the opposite hip. "You are impossible. I know you don't want to be here, but honestly! Why even bother asking for help when you do not intend to listen? You're a mule, an absolute _mule_, do you realize that?"

Piccolo's eye twitched, Chichi noted the gesture but ignored it. If he wanted to defend himself, he would have to speak up. "Why don't you start with 'hi, I'm Piccolo. I'm green, belligerent and have the emotional range of a _teaspoon_."

She found herself closer to him than she had intended, finger poking into his chest. He caught her by the wrist, long fingers encircling her arm. His grip was neither tight nor threatening, just strong. She raised an eyebrow.

"I would advise you to remember that behind your son and Vegeta, I am the most powerful being on this planet. Do not test me." His voice held no malice. Not even a warning. It was a statement of fact.

But it still pissed her off.

Piccolo hissed in pained surprise as Chichi twisted out of his grip.

"And I'd advise you, Piccolo, to remember that I could have _Goku_ quivering in fear in under point-two seconds. Just by pulling out a _goddamn_ _frying pan_." She smirked at him, "and last time I checked, it worked on you _and_ Gohan." He stared down at her, eyes wide. On an impulse, she winked at him. "Now how about you buck up, grow a pair, and…" Chichi paused.

"And?"

"Talk."

"About what?"

She threw her hands up on the air, incredulous.

"You're a highly intelligent fighter, an alien, a god, the Demon King, and have saved the world _multiple_ _times_. I'm sure you can think of _something_."

* * *

**Well, I got my year-long thesis back today! 94%! I'm really happy about it! So I was super excited and worked my hardest on this. I'm sorry that it's short... I'm really busy and I am trying my hardest to stay regular... But now I have finals! FML**

**Love you all!**


	10. Shut Your Mouth, You're Everything to Me

**Howdy y'all. I'm really, really sorry about the ridiculous amount of time that it this took me. I've had AP exams, finals, and presentations, and now graduation! I also had college orientation and my PATH certification thrown in this mix. I passed my PATH tests though, and am now a Certified Therapeutic Horseback Riding Instructor!  
Biggest distraction? The _Supernatural_ Season Finale. Uggghhhhh my feels were powerful and violent. Honestly, I haven't even thought of DBZ because of damn Supernatural... Also I recently discovered that I love One Piece. So yeah.**

**Buuuut I had no time to write, and honestly, I had half of this chapter written for the better part of a month, but I absolutely hated it and could not bear the thought of posting it. I rewrote the whole thing this week. I tried really hard with this one. Also, I have issues I need to address that were introduced in earlier chapters… They will be resolved soon. ANND Beth returns! Actually she's staying until the end. I hope you like her. Hope you enjoy her and the chapter, and I also hope that y'all are still reading! **

**Thanks to all who have reviewed. Love you :-) **

**Chapter Ten – **_**Shut Your Mouth, You're Everything to **__**Me**_** ("Slow it Down" – Goo Goo Dolls)**

* * *

There was something undeniably cute about a pissed-off Piccolo, Chichi decided, allowing her eyes to shift over to him. Especially with that crinkled little nose of his… He was not, she noted, angry so much as he was out of his comfort zone and utterly befuddled. He kept casting her irritated glances. But, he had followed her advice, and even started the current conversation between himself and Beth. She smiled smugly and took a sip of her lemonade.

"…So, you've saved the world…_how_ many times?" Beth twirled a finger around the mouth of her newly ordered-beer bottle. She seemed genuinely interested in what he was saying. It made Piccolo's ears twitch; he pressed his own beer to his lips in an attempt to hide the flush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks. "Well, you going to tell me or not?"

"Uh," Piccolo set the beer down carefully, buying for time as he trudged through the mire of his own uncertainties, "I…only ever _helped_." He rolled the bottle between his fingers.

Beth nudged Chichi in the ribs.

"Always liked a modest guy, right?" Piccolo wondered how much more his face could possibly heat up before he spontaneously combusted.

Chichi rolled her eyes, closed them, and set her glass down.

"Give him a minute, he'll start boasting."

"I most certainly will not."

Chichi stuck her tongue out him, a gesture she had made a thousand times before. So why was it bothering him now? His ears flicked in agitation as he bit down on his tongue to stop a rude comment from spilling off of his lips. Beth let out a nervous laugh.

"How, er, how long have you two known each other?" Udon sniffed. Piccolo glanced at the human, eyeing him with barely masked distaste. The man's power level was lower than Chichi's, and yet she had been staring at him for the past hour or so with something akin to adoration plastered in the most unattractive manner on her face. It was irritating. What on earth did she find pleasing about Udon? He frowned more forcefully.

"A while," Piccolo grumbled in response, examining Udon carefully out of the corner of his eye. Maybe was it the hair? The Namekian stared at his distorted reflection in his beer bottle.

"As in been friendly or how long ago did we meet?"

Beth shifted across the table from him. His eyes flicked up to meet hers for a brief moment before returning to the bottle in his hands.

"_Frrriieendly_," the word rolled off of Udon's tongue, elongated and slower than Piccolo deemed was really necessary or practical.

"Um, about… I," Chichi's voice faltered. He looked up, raising an eyebrow. Their eyes met. Her cheeks turned pink. "Three…four years?"

"Something like that," Piccolo muttered, lifting his beer to his lips again. "It's not important."

"Hm…" Udon nodded slowly, face contemplative. No sooner had he opened his mouth to continue then a waiter appeared carrying a tray of entrees, promptly forestalling any and all conversation at the table. Piccolo methodically stirred his soup, waiting for everyone else to be served.

"Can I get y'all anything else, or should I just bring the bill?"

"Ah," Chichi glanced around the table, quickly taking in everyone's appearance. Udon was already pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his sport coat. She raised an eyebrow at Piccolo, who was glaring daggers at the other man, and furiously digging in his jeans. Her face screwed up in confusion, _what on earth had gotten into him_? In unison, two wallets hit the table with surprisingly loud thuds.

"**Bill**!" the word was growled through two sets of heavily gritted teeth. Neither Piccolo nor Udon was looking at the waiter, both had their eyes trained on the other, and their eyes were out for blood.

"_Piccolo_," Chichi hissed, glancing at the bemused waiter at the end of the table. "_What. Are. You. Doing_?" His only response was to pull his lips up over his fangs, revealing them in their full, feral glory.

That impudent, uncivilized, no-good, asshole of a Namek! "_**Don't you dare ign-"**_

"Woah, boys," Beth leaned on the table, placing a hand between the two wallets. She wore a smile. "We're in public; this is no place to be measuring _dicks_." Udon and Piccolo's faces paled considerably, and their eye contact wavered, flicking to the blonde for a brief moment before settling on some part of the booth. "If you want to do that, the men's room is _right_ around the corner." She gestured over her shoulder. Chichi gawked at the fair-haired bartender, impressed by her cool attitude and witty remarks. Of course, she supposed, feeling the tension in the cramped booth dissipate ever so slightly, Beth likely dealt with testosterone-laden idiots on a nightly basis. She had plenty of practice. "Well, if we're all done with this macho-madness, I suggest we pay the bill." She smiled and slid her hand away from the two males. "Four way split?"

"Why not," Piccolo's ears flushed violet, and he pulled his wallet back to himself, opening it and pulling out a sufficient wad of zenni. "Sounds...sounds fine to me." His cherry-black irises flicked to met Chichi's, she felt her cheeks heating up the longer he held her gaze. She broke the eye contact and dug into her purse, pulling out a pink billfold and pulling out her portion, "I've got the tip," the Namekian muttered, adding cash to the pile.

"So sweet," Beth said dryly, tossing bills down onto the table.

"_Tch_," Udon muttered, and threw his credit card to the waiter. "Put whatever's left on that."

The waiter caught it deftly and gathered up the cash before nodding and scurrying away from the combative table.

"Well," Piccolo stared at the bartender's outstretched hand for a long moment before slowly extending his own and taking it. "I had a nice time tonight."

"Um," he nodded, "sure."

Beth grinned and shook his hand with surprising vigor.

"What are you up to Tuesday afternoon, like...one?" he stared at her, completely confused by her question. "Yeah I know, I have weird hours," she laughed and shrugged her denim jacket on over the tank top. "but you don't strike me as the type of guy who has a day job."

"Oh, of course," he replied, slightly flustered by the look she was giving him. "I mean, I meditate, but... Why?"

"_Uhhhh_, because the two of us can catch a movie? And if you hate it, you can take a nap! Or meditate, or whatever you do. Win-win situation." Beth winked and nudged him.

Piccolo blushed.

"Sounds...sounds good." His gaze slid over to Chichi and Udon. "Just...you and I?"

She nodded, blonde bangs bouncing on her forehead. "Okay."

"You'll pick me up." Beth looked down at her purse, rummaging through it. He wondered if she was going to dismiss him or if he could just high tail it out of the city. "Ah, there it is!" She pulled out a marker and grabbed his hand. "Do you mind?" Unsure of what she was going to do, he shrugged. Beth flashed her pearly white teeth at him again and began to scribble on his forearm. It tickled, but he held perfectly still while she wrote all over the pink muscular tissue. "A-at one. Then we'll catch the one-thirty or two o'clock show."

"Right."

"You're cute," she winked, capped the marker, and dropped in unceremoniously into her purse. "Okay, see you Tuesday."

"Right. Well, goodnight, then," the Namek offered her a very small, fleeting smile before she turned away with a wave.

"Is this weird?"

"What?"

"Is this weird? You and I, going out together, but seeing different people while on these dates?" Chichi repeated, turning the volume on the radio down. She leaned back into the car seat, inclining her head in Piccolo's direction. Her gaze lingered on his face, taking in the chiseled bone structure, appreciating his high cheek bones and sharp nose. Even the prominent brows were attractive. Chichi shook her head, chasing the inappropriate adjective away. After all, Piccolo was… Well he was Piccolo. And he had absolutely no interest in her whatsoever.

"Why would it be weird? I'm your most convenient method of transportation."His voice was flat.

"I don't know!" Chichi snapped, "Do _you_ think it's weird?"

"I think we have overused the word 'weird,' to the point where it just sounds silly."Piccolo replied sarcastically. Chichi did not even bother to suppress the baleful expression she knew must have been manifesting itself in her eyes. "I think it's odd that I allowed myself to be forced into social situations. And, even more strangely, I find myself…not hating it."Here, he caught her in a sidelong glance, taking his eyes off the road for a mere millisecond. "At least not all of it."

Chichi thought about what he meant, mulling it over silently. Her hand reached back to the radio, twisting the volume-knob clockwise. Piccolo's car had surprisingly good speakers. Minding his sensitive hearing, she left the sound relatively low, comfortable. Like the background music of a fancy lounge. Subconsciously, Chichi hummed along to the song, vaguely recalling the tune, but not the words. She frowned. Gohan liked this song.

"Is this Depeche Mode?"

* * *

**Reviews? Please, seriously I love talking to you people. Loooove it. And to my anons... I really want to respond and chat with you, but I don't always look at my reviews before making my authors' notes so I can't always answer your questions, although I do think about them and try to make sure that I answer them either in an Author's Note or in the chapter itself. **

**To allll my reviewers, logged in and otherwise, THANK YOU. I can't even tell you how much they mean to me.**

**I know this is a little short, but I don't think it's horrifically short. I like the ending, and felt like I needed to tip my hat to Gohan a little more, therefore, they're listening to "Enjoy the Silence," which, in case any of you have not heard it, is an awesome song that I think fits Pic and Gohan's relationship pretty well :- ) The Depeche Mode version is the original, but Breaking Benjamin has a cover that I like a lot. Enjoy.**

**Actually I highly recomend that you check out all the music that I put as chapter titles. I have good taste ;) **

**Till next time! (And it won't be two months, I swear).**

**~ShireWulf**


	11. Use My Head Alongside My Heart

**Chapter 11 – Use My Head Alongside My Heart ("I Will Wait" – Mumford and Sons)**

**Author's Note: I had planned to have this out a little sooner, but shit happens and gets in the way, distracting from the fun stuff and forcing focus onto other things. One of the horses at my barn passed away, sort of unexpectedly. He was old, but he became very sick, very quickly and out of no-where with a bad case of colic. Basically I have been working on a memorial piece for him rather than writing.  
I hope that this doesn't sound like an excuse, I would never use that kind of circumstance as an excuse for not updating, I just wanted to let everyone know that I was not in any way squandering time at a beach or with boys. Shit got in ****the way. But I am in a better place emotionally and starting "writing" on my way to work again, (basically I talk to myself whilst driving and listening to the Queen of Pop, P!nk).**

* * *

Light assaulted his eyes as it flared to life in the dark room. Piccolo squinted against the sudden change in environment, and only moments later, wished he had thought to bring earplugs as a sound to rival a firing Kamehameha Wave roared over his eardrums. The Namek's ears flicked as they adjusted to the increased volume, his brain manually tuning out excess stimulation with each passing second. Piccolo crossed his arms and wiggled in the too-small theatre seats, cursing himself silently.  
The girl next him made him incredibly uncomfortable, being altogether far too bold for her own good. But, he had to hand it to her, she had chosen an activity that was, in the least, _tolerable_.  
He had taken Gohan to the movies several times over the past four years, mainly to escape from the boy's parents - or rather, Goku's incessant chatter and Chichi's shrieked commands. Of course, Gohan had never chosen an action movie before. He preferred pleasant films, children's movies, opposed to anything involving explosions.  
Barely ten minutes in, Piccolo decided that this particular movie was slightly more appealing to his personal preferences than those that the Kid chose.  
There was, however, something bothering him. _A tickle in the back of his mind; what was it…? Ahhhh_... He had pinpointed the feeling. _Behind him, to the…left. Yeah, left_. Ever so casually, Piccolo turned his head, pretending to crack his neck, and, very quickly, extended his arm back into the row behind him, grabbing a hooded teenager by the shoulder. He dragged the lurcher bodily over the seats, depositing him into the adjoining chair. The teen yelped, causing several heads to turn in their direction.  
"What -?" Beth twisted in her seat, "what's...going on?"  
He ignored her, and yanked the hood off of the boy's head. The projector's beam illuminated spiked black hair and wide eyes.  
"Afternoon, Brat."  
"How did you know it was me?" Gohan whispered sheepishly, pulling his shoulder's up past his ears. "I was blocking all my thoughts and everything."  
"I always know where you are, Kid."  
"Shhh," a massive man with a backlit afro hissed from in front of Beth.  
"Yeah but," Gohan shifted closer to Piccolo, leaning on his shoulder and murmuring conspiratorially in his ear, "I was being really careful. And kept my ki low."  
"Doesn't matter," Piccolo smirked and tapped the Kid's forehead. "We're in each others' heads."  
"Who's this?" Beth whispered, leaning across Piccolo, unlike Gohan, she avoided touching him. "Friend of yours?"  
"_Shhhhh_!" Afro and its neighbor, a set of pig tails on a teen-sized head both turned around, fingers on their lips. Piccolo shot them a glare and nodded to Beth.  
"I believe you spoke on the phone."  
"Hi," Gohan waved, teeth glinting in the projector's light. "I'm Gohan."  
"Hi, Gohan," the blonde sounded utterly bemused. "Beth…"  
"Would you three _shut up_?" Pig Tails snapped, twisting in her seat and gesturing rudely, "I'm _trying_ to watch a movie."  
"I'm sorry," Piccolo rolled his eyes as Gohan apologized. Kid was too meek, in his opinion. "We'll be quiet -"  
"I should hope so!" Afro said in a loud voice that rubbed Piccolo the wrong way. Something about it made his skin crawl. "I'm trying to have nice day with my daughter, and I'm just hearing you lot jabbering on about nothin'!"  
"I'm sor-" The Namek cut Gohan off with an angry growl, baring his fangs and hoping that his oversized canines picked up enough of the light to cause a pants-wetting. The large jawed man whipped around in his seat and promptly shushed his daughter's protest.  
Piccolo rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair. He would deal with Kid later.

Gohan winced multiple times during the movie, and sank into his chair. He felt his heart rate blitz on several occasions, and gripped the edge of the seat a little more tightly. It was certainly nothing he would have chosen to watch.  
_The Villain cackled maniacally, taking aim at the Hero, and **God** did that laughter sound familiar…_  
Gohan bit his lip. _Maybe following Piccolo hadn't been such a good id _- He jumped as something landed softly on his head, but the weight was easily identifiable. The boy's eyes left the screen and landed on his friend's face, taking in the subtle tilt of the head and an easily recognizable expression of concern. He offered his mentor a small smile. Piccolo's brow softened slightly, and his hand tangled itself in the boy's thick, untamable hair.  
"Completely unrealistic, right?" Piccolo murmured, leaning closer to the boy. Gohan felt the corners of his lips tug upwards as he caught on to Piccolo's game. He nodded. "Honestly," the Namekian was practically bent double as he whispered in Gohan's ear, "the amount of wasted movement is making my stomach churn."  
Gohan covered his mouth to stifle a giggle.  
"And their form is terrible," he replied in the quietest voice he could muster. "I knew better when I was five."  
"Hmph. Five and half, maybe."  
Gohan stuck his tongue out, but said nothing else, leaning against his friend's muscular shoulder instead.

As the credits rolled and the lights rose back up to daylight levels, Gohan's stomach rumbled loudly.  
"I hope you brought money to feed yourself," Piccolo growled, standing and stretching. He had no need of a verbal response as a general feeling of guilt leaked through their bond. "Unbelievable."  
"Sounds like you're hungry," Beth piped up from the other side of him. "I know a place that's not far from the theatre." She looked at her watch, blond brows knitting together as she examined it. "I have…two hours to kill before my shift starts."  
"You work at a bar, right?"  
"Yep," her tone was noticeably clipped, and he wondered if she was irritated by the Kid's surprise appearance.  
Piccolo followed the girl out of the row of theatre seats, checking occasionally to ensure that Gohan had not become caught in the sea of humans exiting the theatre. Several of the humans and other earthlings gave him a wide berth. He rolled his eyes, contemplating growling at a few of them, but decided against it. There was no need to cause a ruckus. No matter how amusing it would be. The Namekian shifted ahead of Beth and pushed the glass doors leading to the outside open, holding them for his two companions.  
"Hey, Piccolo?" Gohan asked as Piccolo caught up to them, falling into step beside the half-Saiyan.  
"What, Kid?" He did not bother glancing in the boy's direction. Gohan's fingers curled around the fabric of the purple t-shirt.  
"You _will_ buy me lunch, right?" Oh boy, was he really starting that nonsense already? That _damned_ note was already in his voice; that _cursed_ lilt, bordering on a whimper. "Or dinner, or whatever this is? A snack. I'll be quiet and spar later - Ow!"

Beth whipped around in time to see Gohan grab the top of his head and stumble forward. Piccolo's fist was still half raised.  
"Did you just _hit_ him?"  
"Yeah." Piccolo cocked an eyebrow, emerald skin on his forehead wrinkling ever so slightly.  
"What the _hell_?" She put her hands on her hips, "you can't just -" the words never made it out as Gohan bounced up and kicked Piccolo in the ribs, sending the man back a few steps. Several people sharing the sidewalk scattered, others looked on with interest. Quite a few were staring at Gohan in shock.  
"Son of a _bitch_," Piccolo hissed, rubbing his chest and pointedly ignoring Beth and the impromptu spectators, instead snapping at the dark haired boy. "I did not hit you that hard."  
"Don't talk about Mom that way," Gohan responded in a manner that could only be described as cheeky, a smile was already back on his face. Piccolo did not reply, merely rolling his eyes and crossing his massive arms across his chest. Beth stared at the duo incredulously, mouth moving but no words escaping her lips until:  
"You seriously just _beat_ on each other?" Gohan flushed, bit his lip, shrugged and then opened his mouth, as if to explain, but she cut him off. "You know how _fucked up_ that is, right?" she snapped, waving one hand in the air.  
"It's not as bad as you'd think?" the boy tried, looking incredibly sheepish. He seemed to have noticed the other people, and raised his voice slightly. "We're sparring partners. Piccolo taught me how to fight years ago." Gohan rubbed the back of his head and smiled disarmingly. "My entire family is made up of martial artists, even my mom."  
Her gaze flicked to Piccolo, whose face was, as per usual, almost entirely impassive, although she thought she noticed a slight discoloration of his cheeks that had not been there before. "Honest," Gohan piped up again. He looked around at the crowd of curious onlookers.  
Beth's irate hand slowly lowered to her head, fingers automatically combing through the cropped blonde locks. She blew out a puff of air and stared at the two of them.  
"Let's just go," the Namek muttered, nudging Gohan ahead of him.  
"We're still going to eat, right?"  
"If you insist."

Beth was quiet throughout the majority of the little group's late lunch. Her silence may have been in part due to Gohan's chatter, but Piccolo sensed that it was mostly because of the… he hesitated to call it an incident, seeing as it had not even been a scuffle…the, the…_ the roughhousing – there_ – outside of the movie theatre.  
"Sorry." He said quietly. She looked up sharply.  
"If it makes a difference, the last time the two of us went all out in a spar, I kicked his butt," Gohan garbled from around the entire loaf of bread that had been presented to the table before the meal itself was even ordered. Piccolo shot him a look of disgust and threw a napkin at the boy's face. The half-Saiyan caught it deftly and tucked it into his shirt collar. "Well I did."  
"What?" Beth set her drink down, and stared at the teenager, Piccolo smirked.  
"Surprised?" he asked, casting a fleeting, fond glance at the boy next him.  
"It's a new development," Gohan said, leaning over Piccolo's arm and taking a look at his menu, "ooh get that," he pointed at some cocktail that Piccolo could not pronounce before turning back to Beth. "When he first started training me when I was little, I was lucky if I could dodge anything."  
Beth's eyes widened, and Piccolo's ears pinned back against the sides of his head, as he registered the expression on her face as one of horror.  
"How – how old were you?"  
"Four. And a half."  
"Five. You were five," Piccolo interjected. "Now pick out food."  
"_Five_?!"  
Piccolo slammed his head into his palms, elbows denting the table.  
"I can't believe I even have to say this," he growled, "obviously, I am alien." He gestured to himself, "obviously. And so is he," Piccolo pointed at Gohan. The boy took another bite of the remaining bread.  
"Half, actually. But please don't tell anyone, my mom will throw a fit if people find out," Gohan said matter-of-factly. "Hey, Piccolo, so I was thinking that I could get two appetizers - ooh the spinach and artichoke dip look good, annnnd the pot stickers, no, wait, the buffalo wings, no, no, I want the stuffed mushrooms - the family-sized ravioli, a steak, and two cheeseburgers?"  
"I thought you wanted a snack?" Piccolo, appalled, checked the menu, tallying up the prices for what the boy was asking. "That's a meal."  
"Four meals, at least." Beth had set her menu down, gaping at Gohan. "I know teenage boys eat a lot, but that's..."  
"Not for me," Gohan replied cheerily. "I could eat twice that much and still have room for more."  
"The waiter is going to ask questions," Piccolo grumbled, he had eaten or observed enough meals to know how much a normal human consumed.  
"Well, you order the steak and the stuffed mushrooms, I'll get the two burgers, and the wings, no wait, the artichoke dip... Anyway, we'll split it up and no one's the wiser!"  
"What about your ravioli?" Piccolo turned a viciously exasperated glare on Beth, who raised an eyebrow. "Can't have him starving."  
Gohan grinned, and Piccolo had to forcibly restrain himself from kicking the Kid under the table.  
"You are not getting all of that. Pick two of the entrees, alright, Kid? Then you can get the appetizers." The Namekian offered, hoping the hungry half-Saiyan would relent. Gohan groaned audibly but nodded.  
"I guess you're attracting enough attention as it is," the boy said with a sigh, nudging the Namek heavily in the ribs. Piccolo shoved him back, but Gohan barely reacted, other than to scoot right back over to his side with that wide, stupid grin plastered on his face.

"So he never called, huh?" Bulma rapped her knuckles on the countertop. "Ass. I'll fire him."  
"_Oh, no, Bulma, it's probably my fault. I –" _Chichi's voice crackled over the phone.  
"What did you do?" The heiress asked, examining her nails, she was due for another pedicure soon. All of this tinkering in the lab was really doing a number on her hands. "Honestly Chichi, I highly doubt that you did anything offensive." There was silence on the other end. "Did you?"  
"_I_…" The younger mother hesitated, "_well I got the feeling that he didn't like Piccolo_…"  
Bulma stood, smoothing out her skirt and walked over to the fridge, a frown on her face as she contemplated Chichi's response.  
"Didn't like Piccolo, huh? Well," she opened the fridge, tucking the cordless phone between her shoulder and cheek. "Why should that matter? You weren't on a date with him, you were on a date with Udon." Again, silence. "What did you do?"  
It took Chichi a few moments to answer, in which time Bulma pulled a canister of vanilla yogurt and a case of fresh strawberries out of the fridge.  
"_Piccolo was being such a jerk,_" she snapped suddenly, almost causing Bulma to drop the phone. "_He wasn't talking at all, and was just sulking in the booth, so I talked to him outside of the restaurant._" Recovered from the young woman's sudden outburst, the heiress mixed strawberries into the yogurt, swirling her spoon around in the delicious concoction. "_I… I guess I might have been_…" Chichi paused and drew a breath before continuing, "_sort of babysitting him."_  
Bulma snorted into her yogurt.  
"Were you babysitting or mothering him?"  
"_I don't know_," Bulma's ears perked at the defensive note in Chichi's voice and she readjusted the phone.  
"Were you flirting with him?" she asked with a smile, not expecting anything more than a giggle and a light admonishment.  
"_Who, Udon_?" Chichi's questioned response came back to her a little too quickly. Bulma smirked.  
"No, Piccolo."  
"_Of course not_!" Now that was too quick of a response.  
"Alright, alright," Bulma said smoothly, taking a bite of her yogurt and strawberries. "You weren't flirting with Piccolo. He's not your type."  
"_N-not at all_."  
Bulma rolled her eyes, and took another bite of her yogurt. "Hey, is Gohan there? If Udon is a bust, then the two of us will have to find you someone else to take to the party."  
"_No_," irritation crept into Chichi's voice, and the blue haired genius could picture the pinched expression that always matched that particular tone. "_I have no idea where he went. He's been gone all afternoon_." Now her hand was on her hip, Bulma thought, "_he has so much homework to do!"_  
"Oh leave him alone," Bulma laughed, "he's probably out chasing girls." Chichi snorted in what could only be disbelief. "Or Piccolo."  
"_I'll go with the latter_," the boy's mother scoffed. "_he's always – oh dammit." _Shrillscreams interrupted her_. "Bulma, I gotta go, it's Goten."_  
"I get it, no problem, I'll see soon, okay?"  
"_Sounds great_," Chichi hurridly disconnected, and Bulma set the phone down with a smile, shaking her head.  
"**_MMMMMAAAAAAAAMMMMMAAAA_**!" A bloodcurdling yell cut into her thoughts.  
"God it's like they're connected," she muttered, shoveling the last of her yogurt into her mouth and running to her son's room.  
Her thoughts strayed in Gohan's direction for one final moment, before turning entirely to her little lovechild. "Where is your _FATHER_?"

Gohan waved an enthusiastic goodbye to Beth, who smiled and returned the gesture, before walking into the Rice Cooker, shaking her head slowly.  
"She's way out of your league." Piccolo kicked Gohan's behind sharply with his heel as he turned away.  
"How so?"  
Gohan caught up with him, spouting out superficial reason after superficial reason. Piccolo shook his head, "Does your mother know you're out here?" The boy grinned and shook his head.  
"She was taking a nap, and Goten was out with a full belly and a clean diaper, so I left a note saying I'd be gone for a while, then picked up your trail." Piccolo glanced heavenward, contemplating sending a prayer in Dende's direction for patience. It was a sarcastic thought; Gohan had been trying his patience for just under a decade.  
"_Delinquent_," the Namek replied lightly, steering Gohan down a side street to escape onlookers. "Your mother is probably having a conniption, worrying over you." He cuffed the boy gently over the head before ruffling his thick hair. Gohan looked up at him and grinned, throwing his arms around Piccolo's waist, ignoring the Namekian's irritated protests.  
"Are we taking your car home?"  
"No," Piccolo muttered, trying to detach his pet leech – Kid. "There is absolutely no point. Both of us can fly." Gohan rolled his eyes, groaning loudly.  
"I've never been in a car with you before," the teenager complained. "Please?" Piccolo huffed, pushing the boy off of him.  
"No. I didn't even use it to get here."  
"But –" Gohan protested, and he heard It. Piccolo's hand quickly snapped over the Kid's mouth, the other grabbing him under the arm before he pushed off the ground and rocketed skyward, Gohan hugged tightly to his side. "Fine," Gohan grumbled, shaking off the heavy hand and steadying himself next to Piccolo in the air. "You win."  
Piccolo smirked and shook his head before angling in the direction of Gohan's mountain home, ready to face whatever screamed insults would be thrown at him by the boy's mother.

The following two and a half weeks passed by in a blur, finding Chichi continually casting the proverbial line into the supposedly plentiful sea of fish - men - with little success. She had even gone out once or twice with Bulma, to "practice mingling" as the older woman had put it, only to have several men bypass her entirely for her blue-haired companion. The entire experience was made even more disheartening by Piccolo's apparent success with the punky bartender. Still, there did seem to be something off about the Namek of late...

"...Goten."  
"What?" The woman jumped, looking up from the half-asleep infant in her arms. The baby gurgled, blinking up at his mother with dark, watery eyes. She gently shushed him, holding him closer to her chest, before looking up at the subject of her distraction.  
Piccolo looked good in jeans, she thought, gaze traveling up his legs, consciously skipping his hips and failing miserably to ignore the way his chest peeked out of his plum v-neck. Utterly unfair.  
"Do you want help with Goten?" He asked, crossing his arms over his pecs. He hadn't noticed her stare, had he? No, as smart as he was, the Namekian was as dense as any other man, right? Of course, that whole species was just confusing. He technically – she shook her head to clear it, not wanting to think about the physiology of the Namekian People. "No?" Chichi blinked, she could have sworn that she detected disappointment in his voice.  
"No, I mean," she stood from the couch, carefully so as not to bother Goten, and took a step towards Piccolo. "I would appreciate it."  
She could have sworn that his lips twitched in a smile as he took the baby from her. Goten's fat little cheeks puckered up and released a giggle.  
"Lololo?"  
"Sure."  
While Piccolo may have been hiding a smile, Chichi let hers show. Goten liked Piccolo. That fact had become increasingly obvious as her stoic…friend…had taken to hanging around the house more and more often of late. "You look better," his voice was directed at her retreating back as she headed to the kitchen.  
"Who, me?" She twirled around on her toes, cocking a hip and resting the corresponding hand on her waist. "Well I've had a little more time to myself since Gohan started doing more with him. And since I've been eating out so much lately."  
He made an odd face, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Piccolo turned his face from hers.  
"I'll… I'll put Goten to bed." Piccolo's voice was soft. "I have to talk to Gohan anyway."  
"O-okay…" Chichi bit her lip as he whisked off down the hallway. "_Dammit_."

"So, how are things with Beth?"  
The question startled him.  
"Hm? Oh, uh, fine, I guess." He accepted a dish to dry, carefully holding it so as not to break the fragile object. "I mentioned Bulma's party. She seemed interested." He glanced at the woman, eyeing her out of the corner of his peripheral vision. Another week had passed, the time of Bulma's party was fast approaching, and Chichi – the reason for all of this nonsense – remained dateless. He tasted something that reminded him of guilt, but at the same time was different from guilt, sour the back of his throat.  
"Oh? That doesn't…" Chichi fell silent for a moment, and he thought he heard her swallow, before continuing. "That's…_wonderful_ news. Will you...dance with her?"  
"I don't dance," he replied, training his eyes once more on the ceramic.  
Silence filled the air between them once more, and he dared to hope that the conversation would be left alone at that, until…  
"She a good kisser?"  
"Uh," Piccolo put the plate down as Chichi handed him another freshly scrubbed dish. "I...I wouldn't know."  
"_Whaaaat_?" Chichi spun to face him, dropping a bowl. He winced as the horrible sound of rattling ceramic clanked against his eardrums. "You two haven't kissed yet?"  
"Should we have?"  
"Yes! You've been going out for _weeks_. You hung out at her place just two days ago." She put her sudsy hands on her hips, and he wondered if she noticed. "I'd have thought you two hit a homerun by how long you were gone! You haven't even _kissed_?" Was it really that big of a deal?  
"We were playing chess," What in name of the Dragonballs was a homerun besides a scoring method in baseball? One part of his brain seemed to be working its way towards an answer, but Chichi's next outburst was enough to distract it from drawing any conclusions.  
"I don't care if you were playing _Monopoly_!" Surely by now she knew how soaked her dress was getting. "Do you _like_ her?"  
Piccolo, pinned to the countertop by the advancing Chichi, shrugged noncommittally. He certainly did not hate Beth, he would never have agreed to continue talking to her, let alone go to an aquarium, or her apartment if he disliked the girl. Chichi had that annoying habit of asking questions with obvious answers. It was infuriating. "Well, kiss her."  
"I don't want to," Piccolo was uncomfortably aware of how close Chichi was to him. The tiny woman certainly knew how to command attention, to create a presence.  
"Why not?"  
"It's _none_ of your business."  
"It is too my business." She argued, leaning closer. Was it just him or was she growing taller? Maybe he was shrinking?  
"How? How, Chichi, is this any of your business?"

He was bothered by her closeness, she could see it on his face, hear it in his voice. Chichi leaned even closer, stepping on his toes. There was a blush flooding his face, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Interesting. Her hips brushed his thighs. He was annoyingly tall; she had to crane her head back to look up at his face.  
"Do you know how?" Chichi asked quietly, voice hovering on the border of a whisper, "how to kiss?"  
"That is none -"  
"You don't, do you?Her voice softened, and she slid a hand over his chest. She questioned her own intentions. What did it matter, really? It wasn't like it affected her in the slightest. Piccolo could figure it out by himself.  
"No." It taken him a minute, but he had admitted it. That was good. The words she next spoke surprised even her.  
"Do you want me to teach you?"  
"Wh - No! No." Chichi smirked, she could literally see his heart rate increasing. "That…that isn't necessary."  
"I know, but _poor_ Beth," she teased, placing a hand on his chest, "imagine her disappointment when her big bad boy toy can't kiss?" Chichi could actually feel his muscles tensing; a twitch here, a spasm there. Her own heart was racing.  
"I don't…want..." but he didn't finish. _What did that expression mean_? He was staring at her, eyes flickering with some unknown sentiment._ Could it be..._? She shook herself of the thought before it could finish itself. _Completely inappropriate_. Although, her current behavior wasn't much better than that dangerous idea bouncing around in her brain... This was a bad idea. It was a _terrible_ idea, actually. What had she been thinking, suggesting such...a..  
Chichi took a short step back, tugging on his shirt. Her feet still impeded his movements, and he was jerked down to her level. Their noses touched. She felt the heat on his face. She was looking right into those dark, confused eyes. He was cute. And clueless. Chichi's hands slipped up around his neck, clasping her fingers just beneath the base of his skull.  
"It's rude to stare," she murmured, pressing her body against his, feeling the panicky _ba-bump-ba-bump_ of his rapidly beating heart through his shirt.  
"What?"  
"It's rude to stare. Close your eyes."  
He didn't. He wasn't going to listen. He was going to keep staring down at her, eyes wide, ears and nose a matching shade of violent violet, and oversized canines hanging out of his partially open mouth. She knew it. But... The tentative touch of his fingertips at her sides seemed to say something to the contrary. He still looked utterly bewildered by the situation; that heated purple blush bridging across his nose continued to spread, skin crinkling where it was discolored by his embarrassment. Chichi felt her own face heating up._ That stare of his! _"I mean it, close your eyes," a small - no miniscule - part of her was screaming to back off, that Piccolo was off limits for so many reasons, but she ignored it. In one swift, gentle motion, Chichi pulled him down another few inches, and closed her lips over his. Piccolo went rigid, fingers clenching around the fabric of her dress, but his lips remained frozen, not reciprocating. He was not going to kiss her back, she knew it. She let go, tasting his breath on her face. Her heart was fluttering. This was wrong. The whole thing was wrong. She should _never_ have -  
Piccolo's arms circled around her waist, pulling her up, closer to his face as he returned the kiss. Chichi gasped against his mouth, eyes popping open for the briefest moment. Whatever part of her that had been screaming at her before was barely a whisper now, and fading fast as it drowned it whatever the hell was happening. What did this mean? Thoughts quickly became useless as she pushed to deepen the kiss, meeting little resistance to her advances. He had one hand under her hips, one on her back, creeping higher. Her hands cupped his face, played with his ears, and, in a dash of daring, fiddled with the antennae. Piccolo made a small noise and kissed her harder, pushing her tongue back into her own mouth. She fought right back, thoughtless.  
"Ow," She pulled back with a hiss; one of his fangs had snagged her lip.  
"I'm sorry," his eyes widened considerably. "I didn't - "  
"It's fine," Chichi touched the cut gently, feeling the sting as tender flesh was exposed to air for the first time. "It's fine."  
Piccolo was visibly shaken, and she felt guilt seeping in around the corners of her consciousness. She should have known better - she did know better. But she had done it anyway. _Why_? Slowly, his grip loosened, and she slid down his muscled torso until she was staring at the soft purple fabric of his shirt. What had she done? Chichi stepped away, face flushing. Piccolo was breathing heavily, but she couldn't look him in the eye. Her gaze refused to travel higher than his chin. "I'll um..."  
"I'd better go," Piccolo interjected, voice rough.  
She watched him leave.  
Chichi sank into a chair, and buried her face in her arms.

* * *

**I hope y'all still love me. You do, right?  
I missed Gohan. Sorry if he was annoying this chapter. But I'm writing him that way for a multitude of reasons.  
I swear this damn plot is hijacking itself and morphing into some monster over which I have no control…  
Anyway, until Chapter 12.  
And 13.  
Oh yesssss…..  
~ShireWulf**


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